Exorcist
by Hane no Zaia
Summary: AU Allen Walker has several problems of various kinds. Money, ghosts, the Black Order, other supernatural occurrences and a stalker... who can walk through walls. Allen Walker, exorcist for hire. Tyki Mikk, his own personal stalker.
1. Where It Rains

_Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray – Man. I just own my occasionally disoriented mind and the evil plot._

_And yes, this is the somewhat edited version of this fic, with (hopefully) better spelling, grammar and whatnot. Cheers.  
_

**- o0o -**

**- Where It Rains -**

**- o0o -**

Allen Walker had never once considered himself as normal; paranormal or abnormal perhaps, but definitely not normal. Part of it could probably be blamed on his looks since white hair wasn't a very common feature among fifteen-year-olds. Having a scaly red left arm with a glowing cross imbedded in his palm was likely not considered a particularly normal thing either, not that many people besides Allen himself was aware of it since he had a tendency of wearing hooded sweaters with long sleeves as well as gloves to make sure his ailment did not become common knowledge. Sure, he was used to being questioned about it but it wasn't like he cared much, since most people already considered him a freak anyway. After all, with the thin red scar plainly visible on his face – starting as an inverted pentagram on the left side of his forehead, continuing as a vertical line across his eyelid before ending on his cheek in a slight zigzag motion – it wasn't as though he naturally fell into the category of normalcy either.

Honestly, people had asked him if he worshipped the devil numerous times already and on occasion, there was even some kind of cult or whatever trying to recruit him for numerous things that he wasn't even remotely interested in. Black magic, devil worshipping, fighting the forces of good or evil or whatever, you name it.

Regardless, Allen held no interest whatsoever in these kinds of things and he didn't even mind having the minions of the Devil living in his neighborhood as long as they didn't try to recruit him on a frequent basis and as long as the forces of good didn't try to make him join their fight against them either.

In short, he was a neutral party, and he fully intended to stay that way.

Allen didn't hold any kind of interest whatsoever in religion but he didn't mind it much either, as long as it stayed as far away from him as possible. But, Allen wasn't completely sure whether he should believe in God or not, but with the Devil he knew for certain that the Devil had to exist with people like his master running around freely.

Cross Marian.

That damn debt-making, evil, drinking, womanizing bastard.

That person was the master that Allen had been unlucky enough to get and one of the reasons of why Allen – in case he ever met God – was intending on sitting down with him to have a serious chat about what the Hell he had done to deserve this sort of thing. Then again, from what Allen knew about God, God just had to be one obstinate bastard, if one could excuse his use of words in this particular matter, and also God wasn't very likely to be very keen on changing his mind unless one proved to be willing to join his special little cult with promise of eternal life after having suffered through the debt-paying Hell which Allen's life should've been. Notice well the "_should've_"; Allen was no longer paying any of his master's debts since he – using a loophole in the system – had succeeded in running away to live on his own, in his own apartment with his own stuff, going to school, working part-time on a freelance basis, playing poker with potentially dangerous criminals in order to make some more money and so on.

"_If one can't reason with God, one has to go and play cards with the Devil."_

That just had to be one of the cleverest things that man had ever said, and when it came to card games Allen really wasn't the type to lose, since as a matter of fact, he was always cheating…

Regardless, if his economy had been the only problem Allen wouldn't have minded much, but as if to add something more to his already miserably complicated life he just had to be a freaking magnet to trouble; supernatural trouble, that is.

Hoisting his schoolbag up a bit further, he hurried his steps a bit as he made his way home from school. He was trying to get away from the more crowded streets as soon as possible since he felt like he was being watched, but in the end, that really wasn't an unusual thing for him. People were always staring no matter where he went. He pulled up his hood, preferring to look somewhat of a delinquent rather than showing off an exquisite view of his snow-white head. As he continued walking it suddenly started raining, as if the weather itself was trying to mock him, but Allen continued walking in the middle of the street and paid no heed to the fact that his schoolbooks were about to get drenched along with several other items. Hopefully, his cell phone and MP3-player would still be alright since it would be a pain to buy new ones…

Sighing deeply, he stopped for a brief moment as he singled out the sound of footsteps he had since long learnt to recognize.

Soon, the footsteps stopped along with the rain as someone held out an umbrella over his head. Allen didn't need to turn around to confirm the other's identity; the distinct tobacco smell couldn't really have come from anyone else.

"Walking around in the rain like that…" the voice snickered. "You're gonna catch a cold one day…"

Allen didn't answer as he begun walking again, soon to be followed by the one holding the umbrella over them both. "Tyki, don't you ever work?"

The man – identified as Tyki – snickered once more, running a hand through his half long black hair, combing it back with a smooth graceful motion which would've made most models out there green with envy.

"Not often," he said, peering down at Allen with his strange amber-colored eyes. "But that way, I'm able to spend much more time with you…"

Allen seriously wanted to hit someone. All supernatural and economic matters aside, having a stalker was a pain in the ass, having a supernatural stalker living in the apartment next to his was even worse and having a supernatural stalker living next to him with the ability to walk through walls was pretty much unbearable. But, like with most troublesome things in life, Allen couldn't call the police either or try to file a restraining order, since claims of a stalker walking through walls were likely to result in getting Allen himself locked up in a mental institution or something.

Stalker tendencies aside, Tyki was usually a nice person and a good neighbor, since Allen would have had much more trouble with the world in general if he didn't have Tyki around, since somehow Tyki's presence in itself was enough to scare off any preachers that otherwise had a tendency to land on his doorstep. However, the more troublesome part of it was that Tyki couldn't always be considered nice, or sane for that matter.

As Tyki himself had explained soon after he moved in, it was as though he had two different sides, White Tyki and Black Tyki. Allen didn't care much about it, not at the moment at least, since he felt an odd tingling sensation as soon as they entered their block. He stopped and Tyki stopped merely a moment later. Allen's silver-grey eyes had narrowed into slits.

"It seems like we have some unwanted company," he said in a low voice.

Tyki continued snickering, not at all bothered by the fact that a currently unknown force had entered the territory that they generally considered as theirs. "You're senses are keen," he then said, smirking in his direction. "But it's up to you. Should we find them and fight them or just ignore them?"

Allen's eyes scanned the environment until he caught sight of two humanlike figures dressed in black standing by the entrance to a building nearby which offered some protection from the excessive rain. Then, he immediately looked away. "Exorcists," he said, as if the word itself was poisonous to him. "From the Black Order."

He didn't like seeing them in their black uniforms; they brought back some very bad memories to him. Ironically, Cross Marian – that sinful person – had been something of a clergyman in a sect called the Black Order at some point, which was before he just happened to go missing in India for no apparent reason, and Allen really didn't want anything to do with them if he was able to avoid it. He had tried to avoid any sort of contact with them as much as possible, which proved to be almost impossible since the Black Order was pretty much ruling the school he went to and they even had some sort of special elite classes (or units depending on whether it was during school or after school) that wore their very distinct black uniforms with a Rose Cross. He even knew the two guys standing over there, even though they had only met very briefly and it hadn't been a very pleasant meeting either. Allen clenched his fist, annoyed at the mere thought of it.

_Calling me "Moyashi"… One day I'll make sure he pays for it… very dearly._

He looked up as Tyki patted him lightly on the shoulder; physical contact was something Allen had always considered to be off-limits, but he was already soaked and tired and found that he didn't care much for it.

"I suppose the racket the other day didn't pass completely unnoticed…" Tyki said, still with a smirk on his face, as though the exorcists didn't bother him one single bit.

Allen felt like sighing again, being reminded of another bad thing.

Approximately three days previously, a pair of bullies at his school had gotten the wonderful idea of trying to steal Allen's lunch in a vain attempt to look cool in front of their comrades. Nonetheless, Allen's lunch and Allen's food in general was off-limits to anyone who sought to be happy in life, since Allen certainly made sure those bullies would live very unhappy lives thereafter. It appeared as if the _Voodoo for Beginners_ supplied to him by Tyki (after having been 'borrowed' from Tyki's creepy niece) had actually proven useful, but in the end, after all that it was a bit weird that the exorcist hadn't appeared earlier. Nonetheless, having them there was never a good thing and he would do well in keeping off of their radar for a bit longer, at least until he considered himself powerful enough to kick their asses. But, in the end, Allen had far more important stuff to worry about, such as what he was going to eat for supper. In response to this, his stomach growled loudly.

Tyki smirked as he folded the umbrella. "Pizza at my place?"

Allen tilted his head to the side, his hair still dripping a bit. "Only if you pay for it."

Surprisingly, having a stalker living next-door could actually prove useful, at least sometimes. Every cloud had a silver lining and whatnot.

**- o0o -**


	2. Calling

**- o0o -**

**- Calling -**

**- o0o -**

Allen yawned, silencing the alarm clock by knocking it down to the floor. He blinked, still tired from staying up playing games with Tyki. Now that definitely hadn't been a part of the original plan, but Allen supposed that it was worth it, since he had made almost a hundred bucks in less than an hour, almost better than he could make while working.

Speaking of working… if his memory wasn't a total mess, he did have an appointment later that day, hence the reason as to why his alarm clock had been ringing even if he didn't have school to get to. After all, to him, Saturday was working day.

He rolled onto the side, his eyebrow twitching slightly as he came face to face with a certain smirking Portuguese. "Good morning…" Tyki purred, his fingers gently caressing snow-white locks.

Allen grabbed onto his wrist with his left hand, squeezing it. "I have asked you many times and I ask you yet again…" he growled, baring his teeth slightly. "Don't do that."

Tyki snickered, clearly amused as always and Allen slowly let go of him. "I take it you don't want breakfast then?" he said, wandering off in direction of the kitchen.

Allen sat up slowly, finally realizing one very interesting thing. He wasn't in his own apartment anymore; he was in Tyki's and by the looks of it in Tyki's bed as well. He probably would've freaked out if this was the first time this sort of thing happened, but as a matter of fact, it wasn't. The first times this sort of thing occurred, Allen had panicked, but nowadays he almost found himself expecting it. Come to think of it, he didn't actually remember getting into bed in the first place.

Getting up and pushing aside the dark satin covers, Allen noticed that at least Tyki hadn't gone through the trouble of changing his clothes and that was enough for him to rejoice even one tiny bit because that meant he didn't have to feel embarrassed about more than the fact that he had been carried into bed by the approximately 26-year-old Portuguese who also happened to be his stalker as well as his friendly next-door neighbor… with the ability to walk through walls; one shouldn't forget that part of vital information.

"Tyki," he said as he entered the kitchen. "I have two questions."

Tyki looked up from his place by the stove. "What is it, Boy?"

"One: why didn't you wake me up?" Allen said, taking a seat at the table. "Two: what's for breakfast?"

Tyki snickered as he turned off the stove. "One: You were simply too cute so I couldn't help it..." he responded, turning around and placing a plate in front of him. "Two: bacon and eggs."

Allen looked up at him for a moment before looking down, confirming that Tyki had indeed spoken the truth, at least about the food. But, Allen still found himself wondering or rather suspecting that there was a slight possibility that Tyki might've put something in his drink the night before, but on the other hand, even if Tyki was his own personal stalker Tyki still hadn't tried doing anything too serious or traumatizing to him. No bugs and no surveillance cameras as far as Allen himself was aware, some following around every once in a while, some hanging out every once in a while, some buying incidents and so on (leaving out the whole walking through the walls thing). On the other hand, Allen had seen the insides of Tyki's closet…

It had been one of the first times when Tyki had invited him over – bribing him with food as always – when he had been left on his own for a couple of minutes that he accidentally uncovered what was presumably the full extent of Tyki's obsession. He had – acting out of pure curiosity – opened a door which looked as though it was harboring some kind of dark secrets – which it was, technically speaking – and thus he had shed some light on Tyki's hobbies – or obsessions, depending on personal preference. Back then, Allen had been pretty shocked that all the walls in the closet were covered with photos of him, but nowadays Allen just found himself wondering why not all of the walls in Tyki's home were covered with pictures, since Allen had actually been bold enough to ask how many pictures Tyki actually had of him.

The answer?

Approximately four or five hundred and still counting, even though it was a very rare occasion for Allen to actually see Tyki holding a camera... Come to think of it, Allen might be forced to reconsider the whole surveillance idea since Tyki did have this creepy ability to appear everywhere Allen went. Or maybe that was because Tyki did know where Allen went and deliberately followed him there? Nah, it didn't sound credible. No human being could possibly be that bored. That is, no human except maybe Tyki. Come to think of it, maybe Tyki wasn't human after all, since it wasn't a very human characteristic to have the ability to walk through walls. Neither was having a scaly red left arm, but Allen had already doubted many times before that he could even be categorized as a human – not as a normal one at any rate.

Allen looked at the clock; he had to get back to his place and get ready. Finishing his breakfast, he got to his feet, saying a brief thanks for the food before making his way towards the door.

"You seem in a bit of a hurry," Tyki remarked. "Got anywhere you need to be?"

"I have an assignment," Allen responded as he pulled at the handle. "I have to get my stuff."

"The part-time job again," Tyki said, smirking. "And I who thought I might even have you all to myself today…"

"It's Saturday," Allen answered as he slammed the shut down. "Saturday is always a working day…" he added with a mutter.

He went over to his own apartment, trying the handle. It was locked and somehow he didn't have the key. His eyebrow twitched as his mind made a few simple calculations.

One plus one equals two.

That bastard Tyki stole the key in order to force him – Allen – to go back inside and play a game in order to get it back.

Allen's eyebrow twitched and he placed his palm onto the door before looking around, as if to make sure that no one was watching before he turned his attention back to the door. _I don't have time for this._

His eyes narrowed as he focused. Soon, he heard a small click and then he tried the handle again, finding that the door had been unlocked. He smirked; unlocking doors and locks in general had always been a piece of cake for him. Allen entered, closing the door behind him before he leaned towards it, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath.

There was still something lurking around the corner, as if there was someone watching him. Those exorcists perhaps, but on the other hand it could be pretty much anyone. Either way, Allen didn't like it. In fact, he never liked being outside when he felt this eyed out; it was an almost scary feeling of vulnerability that struck him on occasion. He didn't like feeling vulnerable, but one the other hand, it wasn't like he would hold onto that feeling for long.

Allen walked up towards his writing desk and fetched the backpack on the floor which was exactly where he had left it upon his return from the Saturday of the previous week. He threw it over his shoulder before making his exit, locking the door again just in case before venturing down the stairs and out into the streets.

Since his destination was pretty much on the other side of town, he could either take the bus there or the tube. As he walked past an entrance to London Underground, he stopped briefly, making a decision before he ventured inside. Getting through the whole ticket system without actually paying anything was a skill he had acquired quite recently and had come in handy quite a few times already. All he had to do was mess a bit with the system and then he was in the clear. It only worked with the left hand though, which was – as usual – safely hidden beneath his glove.

Allen entered the train car through the doors and sat down on an empty seat close to the door while he scanned the surroundings. There were unusually few people around, but one of them, a black clad woman, sat down next to him before staring blankly in front of her.

As soon as the train started moving, Allen tilted his head to the side, watching the one sitting right next to him through the mirror in the opposite window. "You look sad…" he said with a voice that was a mere whisper.

She looked up, turning to look at him. "My brother was executed," she said, looking down at her knees. "Don't I have the right to be sad?"

Allen continued looking at the reflection in the mirror. "I wasn't questioning your right to be sad; I was merely stating that you look sad," he said, his voice remaining a whisper. "But even if you're sad, your brother's already dead, just like you…"

"I'm waiting for him to come and get me," she responded, continuing to look down at her own knees.

Allen tilted his head to the other side. "Your brother has already moved on," he then said. "There is no use waiting for him anymore…"

"Quit stating the obvious," she sighed as a cold gust of wind came by and when Allen looked up again she was gone.

Allen sighed, tilting his head back to its original position.

The underground wasn't exactly Allen's favorite place to be, since indeed, it was a very haunted place. Nonetheless, that was to be expected because of all the cemeteries and crypts that had to be dug out in order to make way for it. Indeed, it wasn't his favorite place, but not because of the ghosts, but because of all the surveillance. But sure, nowadays London had a lot more surveillance than people like Allen would like it to have, mainly since it increased the chances of getting caught. It wasn't the same as with human witnesses; those occurrences could all be blamed on a funny thing called imagination, but recorded evidence might prove a bit harder to explain, since Allen himself – unlike the exorcists of the Black Order – didn't have people watching his back, forging or destroying the so called evidence when needed.

Nonetheless, London Underground did have one advantage which made it worth the ride; the people who were working there were usually so used to weird things and supernatural occurrences that they _"failed to notice"_ that one or two mysterious individuals slipped in and out of it every once in a while. This meant that Allen would actually be able to manage the whole ticket thing even without fiddling with the machines if he simply pretended to be a ghost, but in case he actually failed then it could be very problematic for his future, so usually he didn't, except late in the evening when he did it just for the kicks. But on the other hand, he was rarely that bored and for that matter, doing those sorts of things too often would pretty much put him in the same category of weird as Tyki, since Tyki had a natural talent for playing a ghost with his ability.

Allen had been able to see and communicate with spirits and those sorts of beings since he was a child. At first he had feared them, but later, upon meeting the reality which had so coldly rejected him, he sought comfort in it. He was a part of both the normal world and the paranormal world due to his ability to see and interfere with them both, and even if Allen hated admitting it, in the end, he and exorcists were very much alike in many ways, but differing greatly in others. Both had a certain ability to exorcise spirits or entities, but exorcists did it relentlessly because of orders and a strict feeling of duty, while Allen himself did it merely for the money or at his own convenience.

Allen preferred living easily. If spirits bothered him, he'd exorcise them. As a matter of fact, Allen sometimes wished he had the same ability to exorcise humans as well. However, killing was a crime, but exorcism was not, and sometimes it was a good thing, and sometimes it was a pity, since Allen had met many dead people who likely deserved living far more than many of those who were still alive. Sometimes – in his darkest moments, when it felt as if the whole world was his enemy – he found himself despising humanity for all its cruelty in hiding in the disguise of loving and caring. But, he battled it with indifference rather than hate, since if he did things the same indiscriminate way that they did, then he would be just like them and he didn't want to be that way if he could choose not to.

The train stopped at his station and Allen got to his feet, about to get to the door with his backpack still slung over his shoulder he suddenly froze upon seeing something else being reflected on the other side in the window.

It looked like a big black shadowy shape with a pair of round glowing orbs, staring back at him. It was eerie, to say the least – familiar, yet unfamiliar. He paid it no heed, his eyes directed forward, moving past it on his way out.

**- o0o -**

Making it past the running escalator and exiting onto the streets in an older part of the city, Allen paused momentarily, directing his eyes towards the cloudy sky above before once again lowering it to gaze at the people walking about – most of them tourists, by the looks of it – heading either to shop or to visit historical sites. He brushed past them, paying little or no heed to them along the way, hoisting the backpack further up on his shoulder as his eyes continued to scan his surroundings. Eventually, he came to a stop, letting out a troubled sigh. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small GPS-device.

The GPS-device was certainly needed, since Allen did have this almost eerie ability to get lost whenever he went outside the door. _Sense of direction… Zero._

…Not to mention the fact that the batteries had apparently run out a long time ago, due to him putting it to good use very often. _Great, just great._

Allen put it back into his pocket, cursing the fact that he had forgotten to bring extra batteries along. He had a brief look around, just in case his usually ever-present stalker happened to be present to loan him some, but no, that particular stalker was never around when Allen was actually in need of his assistance… and spare batteries.

As he silently cursed his misfortune, he nearly failed to notice as a pair of footsteps approaching him. "Allen Walker, I presume?"

He turned his head, facing the one who had spoken. It was a man with dark skin, a weird haircut and – by the looks of it – a pair of unfocused unseeing eyes. Allen fired off a brief smile in his direction as his silver-grey eyes warily continued watching.

"Supposedly, that is me," he replied after a moment's silence. "Are you the one who requested my presence?"

Allen held out his hand and it was soon shaken by the other. "No..." the other responded. "I'm just the organist, Noise Marie."

"It's a pleasure." _No it's not._

"Come. It's not far," Noise Marie said as he started walking. "I'll explain the details once we get there…"

Allen said nothing as he followed the supposedly blind man through the streets; politeness was always a trait Allen knew people appreciated, and it was a good one to possess when it came to getting jobs. Sure, his smiling face was merely a mask he wore in order to obtain what he wanted and his smiles were pretty much all fake ones or of the kind that appeared whenever watching the recent misfortune of his enemies, but most people did fail to realize that and thus appreciated it when they were faced with a seemingly friendly front.

They reached the church and pushed the doors open, and they gave off a creak as they moved. Allen entered and simply stopped in his steps at the sight which met him.

Allen had visited many churches in his life, but it was pretty safe to say that this one was one of the darker ones he had stepped into. It had a rather gloomy atmosphere and Allen could tell that some sort of tragedy had taken place there; he didn't need to see the broken multicolored stained glass window to tell that and neither did he need to see the crucifix which had fallen down onto the altar and broken in two. But what caught most of his attention was an old chandelier, on the floor right in the middle of the aisle. Simply by looking at it, he could tell that it positively reeked of negative energies.

"A place as merry as the grave…" Allen found himself mumbling.

"There's certainly a reason for that…" Noise Marie responded. "This place has been closed down for… how long has it been? The last two months or so, maybe…"

Allen looked up at him. "What happened?"

It didn't really interest him and he'd much rather ask another question. _How much can you hear?_

"I was here when it happened," Noise Marie said. "It was during a wedding. The chandelier fell down on the young couple. The bride died and the groom was crippled. Since then, this place has been empty, as people believe that it brings bad luck simply to enter this place nowadays…"

Allen tilted his head to the side, vaguely recalling having heard something of the sort. Surely, there had been a public outrage in the newspapers, big black headlines demanding actions. Apparently, this wasn't the first time that tragedy struck in this particular church; over the years, there had been several similar occurrences, but this was the first one which had a deadly outcome. But, that still left out a question which had been buggering him for the last ten minutes or so. "Exactly how good is your hearing?"

Noise Marie smiled a bit. "My hearing is excellent," he responded. "I can hear the rhythm of your very heart, as well as the screams from the other side…"

Allen said nothing as he took a few steps further into the church while the other continued speaking. "…But on the other hand, I cannot do anything… I can hear how people plead for assistance, but in the end, it is a kind of assistance that I can't give…"

"Is that why you called me?" Allen asked.

"I am not the one who called you," Noise Marie responded. "It was my employer, or former employer if you like, who called for your assistance…"

"Who's your employer?" Allen asked.

Marie shrugged his shoulders. "That, I cannot say."

Allen's eyes narrowed. _Not your average employer then…_

Then, he sighed, shaking his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. "As long as I get the money I don't care," he finally responded. "I can deal with this on my own now…"

Marie nodded, already heading for the doors. "Take care," he said, pushing them back shut, leaving Allen alone in the dimming afternoon light seeping in from the windows.

Allen shrugged the backpack off, pulling out a few necessary items along with a lighter. "I suppose it's time to get to work..."

**- o0o -**

One candle. Two candles. Three candles. Four candles. Five candles.

All set out in a perfect circle around him as he was sitting on the floor in the empty space between the fallen chandelier and the broken crucifix. He was rapidly flipping the pages of an old leather-bound tome he pretty much always carried around with him.

A clank somewhere further away in the church caught his attention after a while and he looked up, locking eyes with a ghostly figure standing right outside of the circle. "Hello," he greeted after a while, without enthusiasm. "May I help you?"

The ghost continued staring at him, saying nothing. Allen gave it another look, looking at the wedding dress and the sadness in her face before he looked back down again and continued reading. "What can I do for you, Claire?" he asked again, turning the page.

The rustle of a dress was heard as the ghost moved around the circle, still looking at him.

"You cannot touch me," Allen said. "I will not take down this barrier until you've told me what you want…"

The ghost backed a few steps, disappearing into a sudden darkness which had gathered inside. It was like nighttime, even though Allen knew well that it was in the afternoon. He spared a glance at the broken window behind him, seeing the entering rays of daylight, reminding him of the outside world.

Suddenly, there was a voice from the darkness. _"Where is Mark?"_

Allen looked back, his eyes trying to locate the ghost, but failing to do so as the negative energies started coming into contact with his barrier, giving off an almost sizzling sound. "Mark isn't here," he responded. "You're dead, Claire. You're dead. Mark isn't coming back here. You'll just have to go ahead…"

The sizzling sounds increased and Allen could practically see the shadowy hands clawing for him, trying to breach the barrier; this was not Claire alone, but something bigger and more powerful; something darker and almost sinister.

"_Where is Mark?"_ the voice asked again, sounding eager, sounding sad; sounding heartbroken.

"Mark isn't here," Allen repeated. "Mark won't come here. You'll have to wait for him on the other side."

Shadowy hands reached for him again as he looked down again, continuing to flip the pages of the book.

His skills in exorcism were a mixture of many teachings; he had taken whatever skill he could have a use for and bundled it all up into a nice concept. Regular catholic exorcism, eastern magic, modern witchcraft and Native American ideas; they all mixed with each other.

Contradicting, yes.

Interesting, yes.

Efficient, definitely.

So, in short, as long as it worked, anything would do for him. To him, any weapon was useful as long as it had some sort of desirable effect. After all, he had abandoned the teachings of purity and innocence a long time ago, and the normal world wasn't always a beautiful place and neither was the paranormal one.

The sizzling intensified once again and Allen opened his eyes, watching as one of the candles started flickering. _It seems like we're up against something fairly powerful this time…_

Allen's hand went into his backpack again, pulling out a small bottle of clear liquid.

Holy water; now that was the stuff, at least in the Christian part of the world.

He removed the cork and poured the water into a small bowl he had set up for the purpose. Then, he carefully put his right hand into the water for a moment before lifting it up and sprinkling it into the air.

"You cannot enter. You shall not enter. Not now. Not ever. Not without permission. Not without my permission. The barrier shall hold. It shall never be breached. I will not let it be breached. In the name of God or whoever you believe in, you shall not cause me any harm in any way. If you seek to harm me, I will do the same to you. The darkness cannot stay forever. Daylight must come some day. Let the rays of light shine on this place and burn away the darkness which have resurfaced in your soul. Cleanse yourself and move on. Do not try to drag the living to your side. Claire. In the name of God or whatever you believe in, I don't give a damn about your tragedies in life or in death. You're dead, so get over it. Move on. If you stay here then you'll never return to Mark's side. Claire. You're dead, so get over it. Move on, so that you may reunite with the one you love. Do not let the entity who caused your demise have power over your soul. You're free now. You're free, so move on. Claire…"

Allen dipped his hand into the water again before pulling it out, reaching towards one of the candles. He put it out using his bare fingertips, thereby opening the barrier. The ghost stood still, watching him from a bit further away as the darkness surrounding it retreated a bit.

"In the name of God or whoever you believe in, I'll set you free." he said as he rose to his feet and pulled the glove off of his left hand, uncovering the glowing green cross embedded in his palm. "In the name of God or whoever you believe in, I'll set you free."

He raised his hand towards the opening in the barrier, holding his hand out palm upwards towards the ghost which moved closer. Ethereal fingers, more like a cold breath, ghosted his hand. Upon contact his left eye begun hurting, as it usually did whenever he was involved with the supernatural, but he paid it no heed, choosing to focus on sending the spirit off instead of on the pain. "Mighty spirit of old, shed some light to this lost soul, send a ray to guide it, though the tunnel, to the afterlife," he continued as the ghostly fingers tightened around his hand, feeling almost like they were digging into his flesh. "In the name of God or whoever you believe in, I'll set you free."

The cross embedded in his hand started glowing, spreading an almost ethereal glow around the darkened church before it slowly begun fading and the ghost itself faded away along with it. The cross in his palm was still glowing, but soon the shadows that had been on the retreat started reaching for him again. A gust of wind came out of nowhere and ruffled his hair, also causing the flames of the remaining lit candles to flicker. The darkness outside of the light shed by the burning candles almost seemed to be breathing as yet another gust of wind blew past him. A chill ran down Allen's spine, but he remained silent as he turned his hand, palm facing forward with the cross glowing. "You cannot touch me," he said.

One candle was blown out.

"You cannot hurt me," he said.

Another candle was blown out.

"You have no power over me."

The wind picked up, like a howling voice screaming at him. _"Come…"_

Allen looked up at the shadow, his eyes wide with surprise. _"Come…"_

The voice calling him was uncannily familiar. "Mana?"

Something cold brushed against his back and he felt as though someone had placed a pair of hands onto his shoulders. It felt as though something was bending down, trying to whisper into his ear. _"Allen…"_

He knew this feeling. It felt as though his energy was being drained from him, being sucked up into the black mass hovering over him. Allen's eyes hardened as another round of pain resonated within him, concentrating around his left eye. "You aren't here," he said, his voice a mere whisper. "You can't be…"

_Don't look around, don't look around, don't look around…_

It was just an illusion, it couldn't be real. _It's just a trick…_

Allen's heart begun pounding at an alarming rate; he had let his guard down, he wasn't prepared for this, not this kind of thing. _Don't fall for it, don't fall for it, don't fall for it…_

Those hands again, carefully manhandling him as if they were urging him to turn around, to have a look, to prove that he acknowledged the fact that it was there. _It's just trying to mess with your head…_

There was something watching him, something flashing by in the corner of his eye. _Don't look, don't look, don't turn around!_

Then there was another gust of wind and the remaining candle was blown out.

**- o0o -**

"_Uncle Mana!"_

_The familiar figure turned around, as always with a warm smile on his face. He was kind, far too kind to be real. He was precious, far too precious to be._

"_Uncle Mana!"_

_The warm feeling was changed into one of utter dread as a searing pain ran through him. Blood was oozing from the left part of his face, but he wasn't screaming because of the pain. He reached out to the person who had turned around, facing away from him, and his silver-grey eyes grew desperate._

"_Don't go!"_

**- o0o -**

The floor. Cold. Hard. Made out of stone.

Allen blinked, feeling a bit puzzled since he was lying on his back on the floor. Rolling over to his side, he tried remembering what had taken place, but he couldn't find anything relevant. Then he noticed how the cross in his palm was still glowing. _Is it over?_

Getting to his feet, Allen had a distinct feeling that he was forgetting something, but he shrugged it off without much thought; after all, this wasn't the first time a similar thing had occurred… Things must've gone a bit out of hand and he must've blacked out at the end.

Feeling a bit tired, he shook his head and begun collecting his items scattered around the floor. It didn't matter much anyway what had occurred, since as far as he could tell, the negative energies had been neutralized and Claire had moved on. In short, it was a job well done, even if the later part of it still was a bit fuzzy. _It doesn't matter._

Allen's philosophy was simple; the things you do not wish to remember shouldn't be remembered, so in short, he did have the ability to suppress whatever he wished to suppress. Churches and chapels were kind of bad to him; they caused old nightmares of his to resurface.

He didn't need the past and he had never needed it to begin with. All that mattered to him was the present and – in the longer perspective – the future, and to build it he needed money. The rest was pretty irrelevant, at least at that moment.

A buzzing noise caught his attention and he swiftly pulled out his mobile phone. "Hello?"

"_Boy… do you know what time it is?"_ the voice on the other end asked.

Allen's eyebrow twitched. "No, I don't," he responded after a while. "Care to enlighten me?"

"_It's 17:30,"_ the voice purred. _"It's been over six hours since you left. I was getting worried."_

Allen sighed, putting the glove back on his left hand. "Honestly Tyki, are you my mother or something?" he asked. "I have just about finished up here right now… Yes. I'll be heading back home now. Sure, I can find my way back on my own. Yes, I can. No Tyki, there's no need… Yes, I'm perfectly sure I won't be attacked on my way home… I-…"

_At least pretty sure…_

"…Wait… I have to gather my stuff. I can keep talking to you on the way so really, don't sound all hysterical since it's kind of creeping me out… Yes, Tyki, it does make me uncomfortable. Now, what is that supposed to mean?"

After dumping all his stuff into the backpack, Allen slung it over his shoulder and begun walking towards the doors, all while he continued talking. "What I want for dinner? Oh, anything's good; I'm not that picky about food. What? Oh… In that case, then… pasta. How does that sound?"

Laying his hand onto the door, Allen pushed it open and went through the small opening before pushing it closed again. He turned his head, looking towards the setting sun.

The job was done and the money should be wired into his account in no time. In case it did not arrive as expected, he had some serious cursing to do.

"_You're being awfully quiet all of a sudden,"_ Tyki said on the other end. _"Are you alright?"_

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired…"

_And feeling like I'm being watched…_

"There's one more thing though…" Allen said.

"_What is it?"_

Allen tilted his head to the side at the sense of urgency in his voice. "The Order has been sneaking around again… I think they're going to make a move very soon."

"_How soon?"_

"I can't say for sure…" Allen responded. "But it won't be long."

"_Is that so? Then get back here now before I go there and fetch you myself."_

Allen found himself snickering. "You're acting like my mother again," he said. "Honestly, Tyki. Stop doing that, it's creeping me out…"

**- o0o -**

The paper slammed down on the desk and the man behind it pushed his glasses further up.

"I have submitted my report," the young man on the other side of the desk hissed.

"Is that so?" the man said, adjusting his hat before taking a look at the written pages along with the pictures that went along with it before looking up at him again. "Kanda, is this all?"

Kanda's eyebrow twitched. "Hey…" he growled. "At least I did my assignment… unlike that _BakaUsagi_."

"So?" the man said, raising an eyebrow. "What was the problem?"

Kanda tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing. "He knows that we've been investigating him… and from the looks of it, he won't come here willingly."

"Is that so?" the man said, tapping his cheek, sounding thoughtful. "Is he giving you trouble, Kanda?"

Kanda was about to respond, but was interrupted as someone opened the door. He turned around, facing the newcomer with his usual unfriendly facial expression. "About time you showed up, Noise Marie."

**- o0o -**

Allen leaned against his locker, yawning. Sunday had passed at a much faster pace than he would have wished, since the main part of it had been spent researching his newly required problem, namely being put under surveillance by the Black Order. Sure, it was nothing official and therefore not much information to dig up, but he knew for certain that their eyes were currently resting on him. _Act normal… as normal as I can be considered to be… act normal… try not to do anything out of place…_

He picked all the necessary books from the locker and threw them all into his backpack before slamming the locker shut and locking it. He slung the bag over his shoulder and was about to get to his first class of the day when he suddenly found his path blocked by several other individuals. He looked up, deep down feeling quite relieved when he saw that it wasn't the neat Black Order uniform but the normal school uniform. Giving their mischievous faces a glance, he swiftly concluded that it was a set of new potential bullies he did not recognize, but on the other hand, he doubted that it would be a waste of effort to try remembering them since they would all be history soon enough if they actually tried anything. Merely the thought of it made him smile on the inside, even though his outer facial expression didn't change. _Must… Not… Do… Anything… Rash…_

"Hey, freak…"

_Must… Hold… Back…_

"Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you, freak!"

A hand grabbed onto his shirt collar, pulling him up from the ground. Allen gave the one responsible a very unfriendly glare. Silver-grey eyes narrowing he aimed a very clear message at the one before him. _Let go of me or you'll be very sorry._

The other's eyes widened a bit, as if the phrase had been spoken out loud and not conveyed merely through eye contact. Then, the grip on his collar tightened. "You can't scare me, you freak…" the other growled as his comrades were discreetly cheering for him, keeping their voices down a bit in order not to alert any teachers within hearing distance. "I'm gonna make you really sorry for that trick you pulled on the others…"

Allen's face remained expressionless, but inwardly he smirked. So it was some sort of revenge after all. But in that case, it was alright then, to pull off a similar move with these morons.

Without any further consideration, he placed his gloved left hand onto the other's forehead, earning a surprised gasp. Allen's silver-grey eyes narrowed with glee. "Unfortunately… I do not have time to fool around with people I do not like…" he said, about to try and release the most terrifying thing he could think of into the other's head, but before he had the chance to a heavy hand settled on top of his head and he noticed that a similar one had grabbed into his wrist. He looked up at the one they belonged to and a chill immediately ran down his spine. _Great, just great…_

"No bullying!" Komui Lee – the vice principal doubling as the school nurse – exclaimed, tugging at his wrist. "Mister Walker, we need to have a little chat in my office."

The group of real bullies smiled with glee as Allen found himself dragged off by the very eccentric and always white-dressed vice principal, aka the Supervisor of the Black Order students. Allen – who had actually tried to refrain from bringing too much attention to himself – had now found himself thrown into the lion's den.

**- o0o -**

"Sit."

Allen looked blankly at the chair in front of him and then up at the man sitting behind the desk before him. "I have an English class to get to."

Komui pushed his glasses further up. "I have already informed your teachers that you will be leaving early and won't make it to your classes…" he said. "So, we can continue to talk without any kind of disruption. Sit."

Allen tilted his head to the side, still standing. "If it's about the thing back there, then I didn't start it…" he said. "Can I go now?"

The Chinese man looked up at him with a frown on his face. "Sit down, Allen… You look as pale as a sheet."

Allen still didn't comply. "This is my normal skin color…" he responded with a hint of boredom in his voice. "And my real hair color, in case you were going to ask about that one next."

Komui peered up at him. "Please sit. Otherwise, this might take a while."

Allen sat down on the chair, looking down at his gloved hand; in this situation he might as well act like he was feeling guilty about whatever he had been called there for in the first place, even though Allen himself was already suspecting that the whole "thou-shall-not-bully" thing was merely an excuse to talk to him alone since he had a tendency to sneak out whenever somebody looked like they had that sort of business with him. "What is it that you want to talk to me about?" he asked after a while, briefly looking up at the man before him before looking down again, averting his eyes.

Komui appeared to be reading some papers on his unusually clean desk – the entire room was normally a whole mess with stacks of paper everywhere and the impending danger of getting caught in an avalanche of anyone entering, but Allen supposed that Head Principal Leverrier's secretary Howard Link had been working overtime again – but then he looked up suddenly, eyeing him through thick lenses. "There are just a few things that worry me… I have heard that you live alone."

Allen looked up in response. "I do. What about it?"

Komui pulled off his glasses for a bit and started cleaning them. "You're merely sixteen years old Allen. It is not a very common thing to live alone at such a tender age…"

Allen gave him a brief look before looking out of the window, his attention falling on a crow sitting in the tree outside the window. _One: I'm fifteen. Two: I have been on my own for much longer than that._

"I can take care of myself…" he said in a flat voice. "And as long as I pay the tuition fee, then it should be no concern of yours."

Komui put his glasses back on and gave him a curious look. "Do you work?"

Allen tilted his head to the other side, still looking out of the window. "Sometimes."

Komui smiled. "Is it legal?" he asked, half-jokingly judging by the tone of his voice.

Allen sighed. "As far as I'm aware…" he said before looking at Komui. "But tell me, what is the real purpose of this little talk?"

Komui leaned forward, leaning his elbows onto the desk. "Allen… This is one of the first times that we have spoken directly…"

_**The**__ first time actually…_

"…And I can tell even now that you are a very talented young man…"

_Me? Talented? Now that sure depends on how you see it…_

"…And that is why I would strongly suggest that you would transfer into the class for specially gifted so that you'll be able to develop your abilities more fully…"

Silver-grey eyes widened and immediately darted off in Komui's direction. _What?_

His heart was racing, but he forced himself to calm down, willing himself not to panic. "Unfortunately…" he said, keeping his voice frank. "…I have no interest whatsoever in becoming a part of the Black Order, as you do purpose..."

Komui gave him a long and serious look. "Indeed…It is very unfortunate… However, you do know about us, don't you?"

Allen got to his feet and walked past the desk, up to the window. "I would have to be blind not to notice…"

Komui smiled at him. "Your eyes see a lot of things."

Allen paid him no heed as he continued looking out of the window. "I see many things, but I fight merely for my own gain…" he said. "I'm not interested in charity work."

Komui raised an eyebrow. "Allen…" he said, still sounding unbelievably patient. "I still insist that you should use the abilities I believe you have for the greater good…"

Allen gave him a questioning look. "Whose greater good?" he asked, already headed for the door. "Their greater good… or my own?"

The door slid shut behind him, and Komui Lee sighed where he sat, rereading the teen's files for the seventeenth time that day. The frown was yet again present on his face. "This is going to take a lot of work…"

**- o0o -**

Lavi stretched his sore muscles as he was sitting up on the school roof. "Finally lunch break… I never thought it would end…"

Kanda, who was sitting a bit further away, grunted something. "Why are you here, BakaUsagi?"

Lavi laughed. "I merely wanted some fresh air… along with the fact that I wanted to know why you always climb up here even though it is against school regulations…"

He received an unfriendly glare in response. "The reason of why I come here every lunch break and other break for that matter is because I don't want to see you."

"Aw… Yu… So cruel…" Lavi shot back with a laugh.

"Don't call me by my first name unless you want to die…" Kanda hissed before he, after a moment's of thought, swiftly added "…painfully." to his statement.

This didn't affect Lavi much. seeing that he continued laughing, only to stop abruptly as he spotted something – or rather, someone – below, heading towards the gates. "Hey… Isn't that _Moyashi-chan_?"

Kanda looked down. "Stop using suffixes..." he growled. "We aren't in Japan."

Lavi gave him a sugar-sweet smile. "Then what about your name-calling then, Yu?"

Kanda's eyebrow twitched and he cursed the fact he wasn't allowed to carry his favorite weapon – the samurai sword which he had affectionately dubbed Mugen – around at school hours; school regulations and safety hazards and whatnot. Bringing it to work on the other hand was an entirely different thing, somehow. "I would, but it simply doesn't sound as good."

Kanda turned his attention back to the one walking across the schoolyard at a swift pace, namely Allen Walker, and his eyes narrowed even further. "I have a bad feeling about this."

**- o0o -**

_Right… _

Allen felt like kicking something or hitting somebody really hard in the face. _Another plan screwed up… _

He picked out his phone, looking at it. _Call or not call? Call or not call? Call or not call? Call or not…_

He nearly dropped the phone when it suddenly started vibrating. He checked the caller ID, honestly surprised when he saw it wasn't Tyki.

Allen put the phone against his ear in silence.

"_Good afternoon, Allen Walker…"_ a voice chuckled at the other end. _"I have a job for you."_

Allen tilted his head to the side as he placed the voice to a face he surely wished he didn't know so well. "I'm listening…" he said. "However, since I regularly work on the weekends I'll be demanding an extra fee for overtime and any damage I might sustain, physical as well as mental…"

The voice on the other end continued chuckling. _"So you do know what I'm about to ask of you?"_

Allen sighed. "Yes, Earl…" he responded, deadpan. "How much?"

"_Direct, are you?"_ the Earl chuckled. _"Fine then… It's only for tonight, but I'll offer you eight hundred pounds in advance…"_

"Eight hundred pounds?" Allen questioned. "That's way too cheap. I need at least a thousand since it could possibly be a fatal one."

"_Exaggerating a bit are you?"_ the Earl chuckled.

Allen sighed. "Fine then… A thousand pounds for one night and a bigger fee in case I end up physically or mentally scarred. Do we have an agreement?"

"_As usual…"_ the reply went._ "…The payment is being transferred to your account right this minute… and you will not be held responsible for property damage, so just try to have fun then, Allen Walker. Bye, bye."_

Allen stared at the phone after ending the call. _How the Hell am I supposed to have fun when I'm babysitting Road?_

**- o0o -**


	3. The Mansion of Terror

**- o0o -**

**- The Mansion of Terror -**

**- o0o -**

Arriving at the main gates, Allen found himself sighing heavily, looking towards the Earl's gloomy mansion as it towered beyond them. _Good money, but this still sucks…_

He sighed again as he walked up to the doorbell fastened on the side of the gate, pressing it. The gates opened up and closed behind him as soon as he had made his way inside; the white-haired teen felt as though his last escape route had now been cut off, which wasn't a lie, technically speaking. Allen looked up at the steel fence, measuring the height of it. In case he grew really desperate and needed to get out of there using unconventional methods then he could always try to climb over it, but hopefully it wouldn't be needed as long as Road's mind was kept on fairly harmless stuff so that she wouldn't get any kind of sick ideas, seeing to the fact that Allen's last experience with Road's sick imagination was still a reoccurring event in some of his worst nightmares. Nonetheless, this time would be different, since he was older and better prepared for what awaited him; hopefully, at least.

"Allen!"

His eyebrow twitched as he caught sight of a little girl with unruly dark hair, a frilly pink dress and an umbrella in the same color, dutifully named Lero. If Lero had been a person Allen would've pitied him, but in a way he also pitied the umbrella when Road swirled it around before dropping it onto the ground as she begun running towards him, obviously intending to fling herself at him, just like she did whenever she saw him. The nearly suffocating hug she gave him didn't lack warmth but he couldn't help but feel like a caged animal whenever she had her arms around him. "Let's play!"

A hand tugged at him, pulling him towards the main house as Road smiled up at him. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Allen took a deep breath before giving her a rare, albeit bleak smile. "What do you want to play?" he asked. _Please don't say dolls, please don't say dolls, please don't say dolls…_

"Dolls!"

_Damn it._

**- o0o -**

The Earl's mansion was a big old stylish building. To Allen, it looked very much like one of those places where horror movies took place, which wasn't too far from the truth since he had visited Road's personal chambers before. Even so, he stopped on the threshold, feeling this sudden urge to back away and make his escape. The reason?

Road had quite a collection of toys – dolls for the most part – and they were all staring at him with their lifeless glasslike eyes. Exactly how Road actually managed to sleep in the middle of this was beyond Allen's understanding, since he assumed that at least a few of her dolls were possessed, either by spirits or by something far more sinister.

Road tugged at his hand again. "Come on, Allen… We've been waiting."

"Is that so?" Allen gave her a brief glance before letting his eyes wander around the room, sensing a slight and unnerving fluctuation in the atmosphere. Numerous eyes – lifeless, but by no means as lifeless as he would have liked – stared back at him. "Then introduce me to your… friends."

"This…" Road picked up a doll. "…Is Suman. He's new. The twins got him for me."

Allen held his hand out. "Can I have a look at it for a sec?"

Surprisingly enough, Road immediately handed it over before she went over to look for a few others while Allen carefully studied the doll in his hands, his eyes narrowing in a sense of realisation. _I knew it._

It was a seemingly perfect replica of Suman Dark, his former PE-teacher, who had been involved in a mysterious accident and was in a coma since three months prior. Not that Allen cared much for him or anything; to be completely honest, he had always disliked the man, but the feeling had been pretty mutual as far as he was aware. On the other hand, the man had been a part of the Black Order… and he hadn't given Allen the grade he actually deserved, since he greatly favored the ones wearing the Black Order uniform.

"It's nice craftsmanship…" Allen said after a while. "The twins have really outdone themselves…"

"I have more of them!" Road happily exclaimed and dropped several similar ones into his hands. "These are the finest in my collection!"

Allen dropped them all onto the bed before sitting down and taking a good look at them one by one as Road hugged him from behind. The physical contact unnerved him greatly, but he was getting paid for it and Road was pretty clingy by nature, and if she was satisfied with merely clinging to him for a bit that greatly decreased the time period during which she could do something… horrible?

"This is Timothy… He bullied me in grade school…" Road explained, pointing at one of the dolls. "I don't remember who most of the others are; they're really nothing special."

Allen turned his head slightly and a brief smile graced his lips; it was mildly forced though. "I know that expression… You're thinking about getting a couple of new ones, aren't you?"

Road's up until then fairly innocent smile turned sinister and she leaned closer, whispering in his ear while playing around with his hair. "Allen… You know I would much rather have you with me instead of all these dolls, right?"

Said teenager suppressed a shudder. "I know that, Road, but in life there are things you can't have…"

_I'm one of those. Accept it. Get over it. I don't need another stalker._

"But Allen… If I can't have you then no one should…"

_Road… Please… Not another stalker… I have one; I don't need another._

"…But Tyki is always like that… so selfish…"

_Just like you, Road Camelot…_

"But Allen… if you came to my place you wouldn't need to have a part-time job anymore; I'm sure the Earl would be delighted to sponsor you…"

_Tempting… but no, I prefer working for my own money… _

"I'm sorry Road…" Allen said, a somewhat sad smile adorning his features. "But, I like my independence and I'm not ready for a steady commitment yet. It would be a great honor to serve the Earl, but… there are things I really need to figure out first before I can consider it…"

_Big words, smooth lies, worming myself out of this awkward situation…_

"But, Allen! I love you!"

_No, no, no, no, no, no, noooooooooo…_

A bead of sweat ran down Allen's face as Road continued playing around with his hair. "You know, Road… your words may actually kill me one day…" he said. "If Sheryl heard you, I would be dead meat…"

Road gave him a disappointed pout in response. "Daddy wouldn't do that since I would hate him if he did and he knows that…"

_No really… he __will__ send torpedoes after me… once he finds out… and then I will have stalkers, a sect __and__ a couple of assassins on my back. Damn._

"Road…" Allen said, speaking calmly despite the fact that his sometimes jumpy nerves were being put to the test. "Let's stop this Romeo and Juliet farce and get on with our lives, shall we? Should we go and play a videogame instead?"

Road gave him another pout. "Fine. Videogame it is…" she hissed after a few seconds, her change in demeanor clearly signaling that she did not quite agree with him at all.

_Think whatever you like, but please refrain from involving me in your romantic fantasies…_

Allen stood up and was about to make his way to the door when an ominous gust of air blew past him, causing his skin to crawl as chills to run down his spine. Behind him, Road suddenly begun laughing, manically, and Allen knew that it wasn't a good sign.

Silver-grey eyes noticed something flying towards him and he was barely able to dodge it. The object – which turned out to be a doll – slammed into the wall and clattered to the floor as Road's manic laughter rose to a howling; had it been any other person than Road then Allen would've suspected possession, but in this case, he wasn't absolutely sure. There was some kind of weird heavy pressure in the room, like powerful emotions sizzling against his mental shields. He shot a brief glance at Road, who was still sitting on the bed – laughing – then his eyes slid over the collection of toys – the army of dolls – that suddenly seemed to be shaking. Some started falling down from their shelves and Allen half-expected them to start crawling towards him any minute then, so he made a swift decision to make a clean getaway before things went that far and he ran towards the exit, namely the door. Once he had made it out of there, he willed it shut and smacked an _ofuda_ onto it, even though he suspected that spells weren't very likely to affect poltergeists. Then, before screeching and screaming were heard from the other side of it, Allen ran down the corridor, jumping down from the second floor to the first one without using the stairs, landing on his feet like a cat. He had his backpack with him, slung over his shoulder the whole time as a precaution, of course, but this situation proved just how much he needed it.

Allen's hearing told him that the makeshift barrier he had smacked onto door had been breached, meaning that Road and all other terrors that had resided in her room were now free to haunt him. Sighing, the white-haired teen took a moment to analyze the situation/danger he had gotten himself into.

One; Road was probably possessed along with several of the dolls, and there were poltergeists or malevolent spirits hiding all over the place and they were likely after him – there wasn't anything terribly unusual about that; the only unusual thing was the sheer number of them, along with the rate the situation had deteriorated.

Two; He currently had ten _ofuda_ with him, a lighter and a bottle of holy water – in other words, he was quite low on ammunition.

Conclusion number one: He was alone in a mansion containing an obsessed and possibly possessed little girl along with approximately twenty malevolent spirits and his arsenal at hand was strictly limited.

Conclusion number two: This wasn't the first time something similar had happened, but this time just seemed to be about three times as extreme as the previous ones, as he was at the moment playing _both_ Tag _and _Hide and Seek at the same time.

_I'm in some deep shit, am I not?_

Allen snorted from his hiding place in a cupboard on the bottom floor; it was merely a temporary measure as it wouldn't stop either the spirits or Road from getting in. He had put wards on it though, but he wasn't completely confident that they would hold. He suppressed a shudder as Road's voice approached, echoing through the empty halls. "Oh, Alleeeen! Where aaaaare yoooou?"

_Ignore her. When she opens the door we'll smack an ofuda onto her forehead and that will be that. Don't answer. Or spray some holy water on her. Don't answer._

"Alleeen! Come out and plaaaaaay…"

Allen sighed inwardly while trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness in the cupboard. _I wonder why these kinds of things always seem to happen to me…_

**- o0o -**

"Kanda…" Lavi said, a gleeful expression adorning his face. "I fully understand that you don't have much of a life besides school and training, but geez… Stalking? I never saw it coming…"

"Shut it, Idiot," Kanda hissed as he continued watching the mansion through a pair of binoculars. "I told you I had a bad feeling about today and my instincts are usually correct. I didn't exactly force you to tag along either…"

A grin plastered itself onto Lavi's face as he sat down on the roof next to Kanda and pulled out his own pair of binoculars, joining in on the spying activity. "You're worried, aren't you?"

Kanda glared daggers at him before once again looking through the binoculars. "I'm not, but you should be."

Lavi blinked with surprise. "I should?"

"Yes, you should…" he sneered. "Since I can easily push you off this roof and get it labeled as an accident if you don't shut up and mind your own business…"

His dark eyes narrowed as he spotted something.

"This can't be good…" Lavi mumbled.

Kanda humored him with a faint hum of agreement.

**- o0o -**

In this early evening, Allen was very glad that he wasn't claustrophobic. He wasn't particularly scared of the dark either, but what was currently going on outside of the cupboard worried him a little; it didn't scare him, but his senses were still on high alert as he made a few silent preparations for defense and counterattack once the chance presented itself.

Road's voice couldn't be heard anymore and Allen assumed she was either in another part of the mansion or waiting right outside the cupboard in an attempt to ambush him. He wasn't able to determine the whereabouts of the other spirits since the whole place was reeking of spiritual energy at the moment, but he could tell that he was alone in the cupboard and that his wards hadn't been breached yet.

It was then that he heard it, nails scratching against the wooden door. Allen pulled out the bottle of holy water and used a bit to draw a cross onto his forehead before positioning himself so that he would be able to throw the water at the first person – or being – who opened the door.

Heavy footsteps approached and a hand was laid onto the doorknob, pulling the locked door open with brute force. Allen flicked his wrist, splashing the intruder with the water. A low growl was heard and a hand shot out, grabbing onto his wrist and pulling him out into the light. Allen blinked as his eyes tried to readjust themselves to the light again and the sight that met him caused his eyes to widen with surprise as he laid eyes on his partially soaked foe.

Two voices spoke in unison, one surprised and one obviously pissed off. "You…"

**- o0o -**

The two opponents stared at each other in silence before the white-haired teen finally found his voice. "What are you doing here?" he asked, sounding far more surprised than terrified, even with the apparent look of murder on the samurai's face.

Kanda didn't answer, but his grip hardened and Allen winced slightly, silently wondering whether the raven-haired teen would break his wrist or not. A cheerful laugh interrupted them. "Yu got soaked!"

Kanda gave the familiar redhead a murderous look, and it was about then that Allen finally noticed that the raven-haired asshole had a sword on his hip.

_Right… So, I'm inside a haunted mansion currently at the mercy of two likely armed potential enemies and I still have a possessed little girl to deal with… _

_I'm definitely charging extra for this one…_

"I mean… _You_ got soaked. I swear that's what I said. Y-o-u."

…_And these people are really noisy. But they could make a nice distraction for the evil army of possessed dolls… if I can get away from them…_

Allen tugged carefully at the grip, but Kanda just turned his attention back to him with eyes narrowed to slits. "Where the Hell do you think you're going?"

Allen tilted his head slightly to the side, looking at him through disheveled white bangs. If not for the seriousness of the situation, Allen would've wished he had a camera, since the sight of Kanda Yu soaking wet would've been priceless at any time, even though Allen was a bit confused about the demonic expression on Kanda's face, silently wondering if Holy Water did not work on Japanese demons… No… Kanda was in the church, so he wasn't very likely to be a demon or be possessed by one. In a foul mood and on the verge of hurting him, yes, but clearly not possessed.

"It's none of your business…" Allen finally hissed, still trying to pull free. "Now let go of me or I'm definitely gonna hurt you…"

A smirk appeared on Kanda's face, but he still didn't ease up on his grip. Lavi looked from one to the other. "Yu… I think you should let go of him. People who mess with him tend to meet a very unfortunate fa…" he was interrupted by a sudden scream echoing through the mansion.

Kanda immediately let go of Allen's wrist only to rest his hands onto the hilt of the sword, and Allen took the opportunity to pull himself free and put an approximate three meter distance between himself and the others before he made a swift analysis of this newest turn of events, drawing some equally swift conclusions. "She's coming."

Kanda and Lavi both gave him a questioning look. "Who's coming?"

"Road."

**- o0o -**

This was not his ideal job situation, seeing the fact that his arsenal was even more limited than before, seeing that he had now more or less accidentally wasted the Holy Water on someone who clearly wasn't a demon. That meant he had ten _ofuda_ at his disposal and a mansion of at least twenty spirits and a possessed girl to exorcize. _Great… Just great…_

Oh yeah… He did also have a lighter, so if he wasn't left with a choice then he could always torch the place. But that would definitely be the last resort, since such an action would be very difficult to explain to his employer. The Earl generally cared very little about material damage, but the same couldn't be said about physical damage, at least when it came to the members of the Noah clan and to Road in particular. So, even if the Earl seemed to be quite tolerant – even friendly – when it came to Allen, but if the Earl was somehow convinced that Allen meant harm to his favorite family member then assassins would be the least of Allen's worries. As such, doing any sort of physical harm to Road was out of the question…

_I suppose this is what I get for being a freelancer…_

Sighing, Allen pulled out a couple of ofuda out from his sleeves, holding onto them in one hand as he walked past the still quite pissed Kanda along with the obviously curious Lavi and reached into the cupboard, pulling out his bag. He swung it onto his back and proceeded, walking past the two exorcists on the way back without giving them as much as a second glance. They glared at him though and Allen knew very well that another round of questions was swiftly approaching. He had no intention of staying until it arrived though.

"Wait up! You've got some explaining to do."

"I've got damage control to take care of!" Allen responded, running up a flight of stairs. "And I don't need to explain myself to a pair of idiots such as yourselves either!"

Now, calling two members of the Black Order a pair of idiots may not have been the most advisable course of action, but really, Allen couldn't resist it now, could he?

Regardless, he still had a job to do. Ignoring the shouts he continued up the stairs, passing by a glass cabinet in the corridor and briefly caught sight of his own reflection in the glass. He looked paler than usual, as though he had seen a ghost of some sort, which was just pure irony in his case. His eyes widened slightly at the sight and he stopped, reaching up to touch his face. His scar was bleeding.

_Note to self: Scars bleeding for no apparent reason, obviously no good. I think that Road may be possessed by a demon._

The realization didn't exactly come as much of a surprise, but still, such an exorcism would likely prove to be extremely strenuous, not to mention dangerous, but Allen was fairly used to danger, both spiritual and physical. After all, he did make it through the time he spent with Cross.

Without giving much of a thought to it, he wiped the blood away with his sleeve before making his way towards Road's room, supposedly the main source of the paranormal activities. The closer he got to it, the more stuff were taking place all around him. Heavy furniture was shaking and lighter objects – papers, for example – were flying all over the place. _I feel like I'm in a horror movie…_

He could vaguely tell that those exorcist fools had followed him up the stairs and that Kanda was shouting something after him. Various profanities in Japanese, Allen guessed, probably mixed in with various orders which he had neither will nor reason to comply to. _Yep… A really bad horror movie…_

Now, only one question remained. Would this end up like in _the Exorcist_ or like in some other movie which Allen hadn't actually seen? He wasn't all too fascinated by horror movies themed around the supernatural, mostly since he had actually been through at least a third of the stuff that normally happened in them. Personal experience in the matter kind of ruined the entertainment. But, on the other hand, if he actually managed to survive this then he might as well write a bestselling novel about it and sell the moviemaking rights, hence possibly making quite a decent sum on it. That actually sounded like a real plan of some sort. Now he only needed to get himself out of this mess in order to be able to live to tell it.

With a heavy heart, he approached the door, which stood half open as it had been torn off its hinges. Hesitantly, he knocked at it, speaking up for the first time in the brief minutes that had passed. "Um… Road, we need to talk."

Shrill laughter was heard from inside. Then, it suddenly died down and Allen clearly heard feet being dragged over the floor, slowly drawing closer to the door. Soon, a pair of tired, yet very sinister amber-colored eyes peered up at him. "But Allen…" she said in a deep voice, one very unfitting her age. "I don't want to talk; I want to play…"

Allen sighed. "Fine…" he said, raising his index finger. "On one condition."

**- o0o -**

Meanwhile, in an apartment not so far away, Tyki Mikk was steadily running low on his patience. Allen still wasn't back from school and it was already half past seven in the evening, which meant that he either got an urgent job request or himself in trouble or likely both, knowing the individual in question. Therefore, Tyki was understandably worried, and was pacing back and forth between his own apartment and Allen's, moving through the wall. For each time he passed through it and was once again able to establish the fact that Allen still wasn't back yet, he got even more frustrated. Then, approximately five minutes later, he finally cracked, fishing out his cell phone, pressing the speed dial. After a few seconds, which seemed like an eternity to someone like Tyki, somebody finally picked up at the other end. "Tell me where you are right now so I can come and pick you up."

Silence was heard from the other end before the other finally spoke. _"Earl's mansion, the roof. I'm babysitting Road."_

Hearing this, Tyki cursed inwardly before suspiciously asking the obvious. "Why are you on the roof?"

Silence.

"_Because there are two exorcists inside the mansion and I convinced Road – who seems to be possessed by a demon by the way – to play with them in order to save myself from a possibly harmful and traumatizing experience. Was that a bad decision?"_

Tyki snatched his coat from the hanger and put it on while still keeping the phone pressed against his ear. "It wasn't a bad decision in itself, but why are there exorcists around the mansion in the first place?"

"_A Black Order member at my school tried to recruit me earlier today. I think they were assigned with the task of stalking me or something…"_

Hearing this Tyki's facial expression darkened considerably and a smirk played on his lips. "Well… I certainly can't have that now, can I?"

"_Tyki… Scaring them is enough; don't kill them. It could give me a lot of trouble if my name were turn up in another crime investigation…"_

"Hey…" Tyki defended himself with a smirk as he passed through another wall and onto the street. "They're the ones trespassing."

"_True enough… but they're backed with an organization of influence."_

"So are we…" Tyki responded with a snicker. "Do not underestimate the political power of the Earl; you'll get to know it soon enough…"

"_I hope I never have need of it"_, Allen replied. _"I hate being in debt."_

Tyki pulled the phone from his ear, looking at the display with an almost disbelieving look on his face. _He hung up on me…_

**- o0o -**

Being a member of the esteemed Black Order Kanda was pretty used to dealing with supernatural occurrences, but the situation currently at hand had proved to be way too extreme, even for his measures. The entire building seemed to be under some kind of supernatural influence, even without the clearly possessed individuals and items that was currently within it. Honestly, who in their right mind would even think of entering this place in the first place?

A childish giggle brought him back from his thoughts and he spun around with his trusted sword Mugen ready in his hand, facing a little girl who was standing in the doorway to one of the rooms. Kanda still didn't let his guard down, knowing very well by now that nothing in this house was as it seemed. Besides, the dark and sinister aura surrounding his opponent shouldn't really be ignored anyway. "Where's Allen?"

**- o0o -**

Allen Walker himself was enjoying the whole situation, to the extent the whole situation could be enjoyed, of course. He was lying with his back against the roof while he stared out at the darkening surroundings and the evening sky. Babysitting Road had been surprisingly easy this time, probably because Road had other entertainment at the moment, but still, the fact that he was about to be _rescued_ from the roof by Tyki Mikk did feel slightly undignified. Speaking of said stalker capable of walking through walls, he had just arrived at the gates, waving cheerfully at him from the distance. "Did I keep you waiting?"

Allen sat himself up, looking at him, but he didn't say much as he instead concentrated and listened to the vague sounds of ruckus from inside the mansion itself. Yep, they were still going at it. Maybe he should intervene or something before anything too bad happened, as in the worst case scenario of Road getting hurt and him getting blamed and punished accordingly, or having to explain the two badly beaten and possibly mutilated bodies of Black Order students for the police in case it got out…

Still, the alternative with the Earl was definitely scarier, and Allen hadn't even put Sheryl's reaction into the equation. With this rather terrifying threat having over him, it was pretty hard to see why Allen had accepted the job in the first place. Right… it was because it had an excellent pay.

"Nope, didn't keep me waiting at all," Allen cheekily responded as soon as Tyki had gotten within an appropriate hearing distance. "Still, do you think you could give me a hand? I can't get down from here."

Tyki smirked, giving him an elegant bow before looking up at him once more. "I will come for you Little Kitten," he said. "As your knight in a shining armor or fireman depending on which one you prefer, I shall climb this ladder and then I shall carry you down with me to safety…"

Allen stared at him with a blank expression on his face bordering to one of great boredom.

"Right…" he said after a few moments of contemplation. "You do that and then you can come along with me into the warzone; I need to check on Road."

Tyki snorted as he started climbing the ladder with surprising agility and flexibility, for wearing a suit, at least. Come to think of it, why the Hell was he wearing that thing anyway? "Road can manage on her own, especially when she's possessed," he said. "Let's go home to my place and…"

"Tyki," Allen cut off from his position at the roof. "Do as I say and I'll call in sick tomorrow so that I'll be able to spend the day with you."

Tyki's head appeared in his line of vision, his eyes glittering. Allen silently asked himself whether or not he was going to regret this later on. "Boy," Tyki said, still giving him that awfully scary but still extremely friendly smile. "If you're lying, there'll be some very… unpleasant consequences…"

Allen sighed, briefly closing his eyes before opening them again. He was almost definitely going to regret this later. Still, there was a barrier which needed to be made…

**- o0o -**

Komui looked up from his report, staring at the clock.

It was already half past eight in the evening; Kanda and Lavi should've reported in for their respective assignments hours ago, yet neither had appeared or sent their reports, and even though Lavi had a tendency for tardiness, Kanda was always on time.

Komui looked down at his report again, frowning as he once again reread the file on one Allen Walker. _Legally emancipated at age fifteen. Living alone. Birthparents unknown. Lived with foster parent at an early age. Former legal guardian… Cross Marian…_

Komui's frown deepened at this. He hadn't been expecting to see that name pop up in his records again, not since the man in question went mysteriously missing upon graduating from the school; Komui himself had also been just a student at the time, but he had later learned that from that very day, Cross Marian hadn't reappeared anywhere in the system, not in Great Britain, at least. One rumor claimed he was dead, another that he had been involved with the mafia and yet another one claimed that he dropped off the face of the earth so that he could fool around all he wanted without being bothered by any work from the Black Order.

Komui had been a supporter of the last theory for a while now, but the fact that Allen Walker was by the looks of it involved with the man caused new questions to arise. But, on the other hand, if Cross was in any way the same kind of person he had been back when he knew him, Komui really couldn't blame the white-haired teen for being so outright hostile towards them.

His eyes lingered on the photograph which had been clipped to the file, depicting a small child sitting on the lap of a kind-looking man in a suit whose face looked oddly blurred, while the child's eerie silver-gray eyes stared straight into the camera as his small form almost seemed to be surrounded by a strange white light, similar to the way some ghosts appeared if they got captured on film.

The photograph was one of several others which had been delivered to him in an anonymous package along with a short letter with mysterious symbols. It was some sort of message – that much was obvious – but it was also an indecipherable one. Komui had even asked a few experts he knew if they could decode it, but the response was always negative; anyone who actually tried usually gave up before the end of the week.

Among the other photographs, there was another one that especially clung to him – a black and white photograph depicting a young man with dark spiky hair sitting by a white piano, seemingly too concentrated on playing that he hadn't even looked up when the picture had been taken. One of the things that struck Komui was the fact that the photograph looked old, old enough to be from the start of the previous century. Another thing that caught him was the uncanny resemblance this mysterious black-haired individual held to a certain white-haired teen by the name of Allen Walker. Yet another thing that fascinated him with the picture was that someone had scribbled down the lyrics to an unknown lullaby on the back of it and in an act of pure curiosity he had compared the writing to Allen Walker's. It had been a perfect match, but according to the scientists he had over to examine it the ink itself was over thirty years old and consequently there was no way that the text had been written by Allen Walker, even if the writing in itself was perfectly matched.

Komui might've thought of himself as rather mad, due to the fact that he was largely obsessed with unraveling a mystery consisting of a couple of pictures and a paper sheet with symbols. But, he somehow still couldn't help the feeling that he was somehow supposed to unravel it, somehow supposed to find a pattern, to grab onto some invisible thread and follow it to the very end. The package had been sent to him after all; it had been addressed to his office. As for the matter of who had sent it, Komui Lee simply made the assumption that he would probably find out at the end, if he ever managed to unravel the mystery in the first place.

Right at that moment, a text message was delivered to his cell phone. Komui picked it up, read the message and announced the first thing that came into his mind. "Shit."

**- o0o -**

"Shit, shit, shit…" Kanda repeated over and over again, swearing in English for once and not in Japanese. "Shit, shit, shit…"

Using the word 'shit' to describe the situation they were in was an understatement, considering the fact that he was stuck inside of what looked like a girl's room, surrounded by an army of obviously possessed dolls that were also armed with knives and other weapons, only slightly bigger than tableware but certainly three or four times sharper, and he was stuck in there with Lavi of all people, who proved to have a sudden and serious phobia of anything looking even remotely similar to a doll, like the ones that were closing in on them right at this very moment.

The little girl – no, the sinister demon in the shape of a small child – was sitting at the opposite end of the room a few meters up into the air, sitting on a hovering umbrella, looking at them with gleaming amber eyes as evil giggles rocked her body.

Kanda wasn't stupid; the girl was obviously the main source of the paranormal activity in the house. She was probably the 'Road' Allen had mentioned earlier.

Speaking of which, the Bean Sprout was nowhere in sight. He had probably taken the chance to run when he had it, when the devil girl was busy with taking care of them… Or maybe this had all been a trap staged by the white-haired teen himself to fool them into following him into this seriously dangerous and obviously very haunted mansion. Though on second thought, Kanda didn't think the Sprout was smart enough. No, definitely not.

"Stay still now…My dolls won't cut you up if you don't try to cut them up…" Road cackled as the dolls once again continued approaching them. "You will become one of them very soon anyway…"

Kanda's eyes narrowed as he readied his stance, readying himself for a jump; he knew that he would only have one chance and that would be to cut down the one who was possessed. Surely it would be quite difficult to explain what the Hell he had thinking – using his weapon to slash a small child, and all – but, he would rather explain himself in person than have the forensics explain it for him. "I don't have time to play with you," he hissed at her.

Road looked vaguely surprised for a moment before her attention was caught by something happening outside of the window next to them. The windowpanes started cracking and merely a moment later they shattered, as though they had been hit by the shockwave of an explosion.

"TYKI!" Road shouted, enraged by the sounds of it. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Said individual – presumably by the name of Tyki – who was walking away from the house stopped briefly, turning around with a bored expression on his face. "I'm taking Sleeping Beauty home," he shouted back. "What does it look like?"

With Sleeping Beauty, he was obviously referring to the unmoving white-haired teen that he held in his arms - the unmoving white-haired teen with a great amount of blood on his clothing, that is.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY ALLEN, YOU BLOODY PSYCHOPATH?"

"Look who's talking!" Tyki shouted back. "Besides, I didn't do anything; he did it all by himself!"

And with that, he hoisted Allen's body up a bit before nonchalantly strolling off in direction of the gates while blatantly ignoring the profanities and curses Road sent his way as she ordered her makeshift broom – her umbrella – to go after them. As soon as she had flown out of the window, the dolls stopped moving and fell over as maybe two or three dozen pieces of metal clattered to the floor.

Seeing his own chanceof escaping, Kanda took it and whacked Lavi on the head to snap him out of the dazed state he was in before breaking down the door and getting the Hell out of there. Kanda didn't think he had ever run that fast before.

"Yu!" Lavi shouted as he ran past him with the selfsame smile that annoyed the samurai so much. "I think I'm gonna need therapy for this one; would you care to join me?"

Kanda snorted as he continued running, immediately falling back into his regular state of unconsciousness. "I should've left you in there, Idiot!" he sneered while picking up his pace.

They got out of the house and started making their way towards the gates, seeing no Allen and none of the others in sight as they proceeded with their mutual goal of getting the Hell out of there. Kanda slowed down after exiting the gates, turning around to face the mansion as he grabbed onto the collar on Lavi's shirt to make him do the same. "Look," he said, pointing in direction of one of the windows.

There was an eerie shadow standing in it, easily spotted even in the dimness, standing watch. Then, it turned, fading away from sight.

The two exorcists exchanged a look, but neither said anything.

**- o0o -**

"That was kinda fun," Allen announced tiredly as he lay on his back on one of the sofas in the mansion. "If we scratch out the whole 'exorcizing the demon in the wine cellar' part… Did we get it all on tape?"

"Of course," Tyki responded, frowning lightly as he dabbed Allen's brow with a wet towel. "Setting up all of the equipment was a pain, so I hope it was worth it…"

Allen stared at the ceiling. "Still the fact that there was a freaking portal to Hell in there," he said thoughtfully after a while, looking at his bandaged wrists. "Luckily, I managed to close it and seal it before a demon stronger than the one who possessed Road managed to enter through it. I sure hope almost getting cut to ribbons was worth it…"

Tyki blinked. "Road was possessed?" he asked with an expression of sheer disbelief. "Isn't that the way she usually acts?"

"She was possessed, but that still doesn't change the fact that she is normally possessive of me, bordering on obsessive…" Allen responded with a sigh. "Sort of like you."

Tyki tilted his head to the side. "Don't compare me to a spoiled brat like her..." he said tapping with a finger onto his cheek. "It wounds me deeply that you think of me in such a way... Regardless, you haven't forgotten that you promised me something now, have you?"

Allen gave him a tired look. "Wasn't the sheer opportunity of doing whatever you wanted with me during the time I was unconscious enough for you?"

"Absolutely not," Tyki said, leaning over him. "And exactly what is stopping me from snogging you senseless right now?"

Allen stared blankly up at him. "How about the fact that I'll curse you into the next century if you dare to try?"

Tyki smirked and put a finger over his lips, leaning even closer. "There won't be any oxygen left in you for cursing when I'm through with you, Boy."

**- o0o -**

To say that Allen woke up with a terrible ache in his body the next morning was not a mild exaggeration. To say that he felt like crap was a huge understatement. As a matter of fact, Allen had this feeling – or rather, suspicion – that either Tyki or Road had put something in his drink the previous night, seeing that they were both perfectly capable of it. A part of the quite… intimate encounter with said stalker he had the night before flashed before him and he blushed furiously while pressing the wet towel against his burning face; it didn't cool down much anyway, seeing to the fact that his body temperature had spiked and that he was coming down with one Hell of a fever, courtesy of not sleeping all too well and exerting himself the night before… in more ways than one. _Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it…_

Due to the rather poor condition he was currently in, Allen had stayed rather true to his word, seeing that he did call in sick and did stay together with his stalker for a great deal of the day, – as promised – even if he had been sleeping for quite some part of it – once again, probably under some sort of influence – but Tyki hadn't seemed to mind all that much and Allen quite blatantly assumed that Tyki's photo collection would soon include more than a dozen photos of a feverish Allen sprawled out on a sofa; as though the man didn't have enough photographs depicting him in such a state already.

The mere thought of it caused him to shudder. Still, Tyki had been forced to go on some sort of assignment for the Earl and hadn't come back since; Allen was honestly surprised to find that Tyki actually did some kind of real work every once in a while.

Regardless, he had just made quite a decent amount of money, triumphed over a demonic entity, sealed a portal to Hell in the basement, humiliated some Black Order exorcists and he had gotten it all on tape. Speaking about the tapes, it appeared as though the twins had gotten their hands on them and that they were in the process of making cuts and putting it together into a single movie; the Earl had expressed some vague intention to view it on the next Noah family reunion as entertainment but Allen hoped that the man hadn't been serious. But, on the other hand, if he was, then Allen would do the best of the entire situation; he would obviously be demanding more cash.

Thinking about the job in question, Allen was seriously considering arranging a pretty bonfire with Road's dolls if he could somehow manage to convince her that there were things more fun playing with than dolls; not to mention fact that said dolls seemed to be perfect containers for malevolent spirits, enabling them to exercise their influence upon reality. Still, maybe the dolls would be some sort of a lesser evil since they kept Road occupied so that she didn't play all too much with other things, things such as people's lives for example and Allen's life in particular.

Oh well, it wasn't as though he could seriously consider any type of exorcism at the moment – he was pretty much out of vital supplies needed in order to hold a proper exorcism, and he needed to pay more attention to restocking in order to avoid running out of supplies and not waste his Holy Water on Black Order exorcists.

Still, Allen thought as he lay there all tired and feverish, it felt like it had been several years since he was sick the last time around; he had almost forgotten the feeling and he wasn't all too happy with the rather harsh reminder.

All of a sudden the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Allen sat himself up holding his head while trying to stop the world from spinning. He didn't see anything, but he knew for certain that someone or something had entered the room. Then, a cold breath-like wind blew past. His eyes widened slightly and he found himself tensing up. He was waiting; the presence in the room didn't have that sinister aura or anything, but when it came to spirits one could never really know and soon enough, a ghostly whisper came into his ear.

"_He's coming back…"_ a low and somewhat raspy voice spoke. _"He's coming back…"_

"Who?" Allen breathed out, his lips barely moving; he wasn't particularly scared or anything, he just wasn't in for interacting with the supernatural when in such a state that he wasn't even sure he would be able to keep the actual supernatural occurrences apart from the feverish hallucinations he was expecting any minute now. "Who's coming back?"

The temperature dropped even further. Then another voice, this one clearly female, resounded inside the room. "Who are you talking to?"

Allen looked up at Lulubell, who stood in the doorway, watching him with an expression of indifference. All of a sudden, the temperatures returned to normal and the presence was gone, so Allen merely shrugged his shoulders as he replied. "It's nothing… I'm just seeing things again. I think it's the fever," he clarified, earning himself an odd look in return.

Then, suddenly, the other dangled a small bottle before him. "Fever suppressant," she said, her voice devoid of any particular emotion.

Allen accepted the bottle, not seeing much reason in being particularly suspicious of Lulubell, since she wasn't, as far as Allen was aware at least, a stalker or otherwise obsessed with him. For all that he knew, her obsessions lay elsewhere.

"You seem stressed," Lulubell said after a while, watching him. "Is something worrying you?"

Allen returned the look with a frown before tilting his head to the side. "At the moment, I am the most worried about the fact that you actually seem to care about me," he said. "What's the special occasion?"

"The Earl cares for your health, so I have reasons to be concerned about it," Lulubell responded. "It's nothing more than that."

Allen gave her a bleak smile. "Should I take that as a compliment or as an insult?"

Lulubell got up from the chair she had previously occupied and brushed some dust off of her clothes as she seemingly prepared for departure. "You can take it as either one you like," she said. "You should be expecting some more company in a minute; the Earl wants to see you."

Why did Allen suddenly feel this sudden urge to start bashing his head against a wall?

**- o0o -**

Having a little chat with the Millennium Earl was not Allen's favorite thing to do, especially not when he was feeling a bit under the weather. The topics discussed were always similar if not the same; it was either about money or about things that were very much related to money, such as new assignments. Still, Allen preferred and had always preferred only speaking directly to his most frequent employer on the phone instead of meeting face to face, seeing to the fact that Allen himself felt very uneasy whenever the Earl was nearby, but it wasn't like he could actually do much to get away from this one.

**- o0o -**

"My offer still stands, Allen Walker," the man in question chuckled. "I suggest that you take it into consideration; it is not a bad deal after all…"

"I am considering it, Earl," Allen sighed, munching on a slice of toast. "But, I have my policy after all and it has worked for me so far, so why would I go against what has kept me afloat for this long?"

"Isn't the thing which has kept you afloat for this long my money?" the Earl asked, sounding rather amused.

Allen shifted uncomfortably beneath his somewhat penetrating gaze; the Earl's eyes – half-hidden behind those small rounded glasses – were scary; there was no question about it. Besides, sometimes Allen just couldn't help but wonder exactly what lay beneath that black top hat with varying decorations that the Earl always wore; bunny ears perhaps or maybe even horns? Regardless of which, Allen regarded the Millennium Earl as a potentially dangerous individual and a scary one at that; of the things that actually managed to traumatize him, facing the wrath of the Earl was almost definitely in the top three. Still, all money was perfectly good to Allen, no matter whether it came from the Earl or from someone else; the Earl just had this tendency of paying well, exceptionally well. Of course, the pay did need to be damn good in case he would ever get left alone in the same room as a possessed Road again; looking at the whole event in hindsight, Allen came to the conclusion that he wasn't as injured or horribly mutilated as he had expected to be from such encounter.

Allen reached for another slice of toast from the plate on the table, keeping his eyes trained on the Millennium Earl the whole time. The man leaned forward ever so slightly, braiding his fingers together. "I have a proposition for you."

Allen's eyebrow rose slightly. "What sort of proposition?"

The Earl sat in silence for a while. "One could call it a compromise of sorts, I suppose," he then said. "The pay is the same as always of course."

Allen pulled the slice of bread from his mouth before responding. "I'm listening," he said.

**- o0o -**

"He isn't here today," Lavi commented as he followed Kanda to their lockers. "Do you think he's alright?"

Giving the redhead an unfriendly glare, Kanda pulled out his books and shoved the door shut before he locked it and swept past him down the corridor. Lavi scrambled for his books before he resorted to running in order to keep up with the samurai. "Why should I give a rat's ass about his wellbeing?" Kanda spat. "Now leave me the fuck alone before I'll shove you out of the window!"

"This is the third floor you know," Lavi commented, only to be grabbed by the collar to his uniform and dragged off in direction of one of the windows while flailing desperately. "Yu, Yu! Stop this! You can't kill me; I'm your friend!"

Kanda paused briefly, giving him a very dark and somewhat sinister look. The fact that there was a tiny but still very distinguishable smile on his lips proved the most terrifying, from Lavi's perpective, at any rate. "What friend?" he asked as he reached up to open the window, but right before he was able to, a heavy hand belonging to a teacher landed on top of his head.

"And what… do you think you're doing?" Reever Wenham asked, retracting his hand.

"What does it look like we're doing?" Kanda asked as he once again reached up to open the window. "He's annoying the Hell out of me and I'm merely ridding the world of an unneeded nuisance…"

"The vice principal wants you two in his office," Reever shot back, furrowing his eyebrows. "Now."

The two Black Order students regarded him for a brief second before Kanda finally let go and stormed off in direction of Komui's office. Lavi on the other hand lingered a bit, turning towards Reever, knowing well that the man in question was Allen's homeroom teacher. "Is Allen sick today?" he asked.

Reever heaved a deep sigh, scratching his head. "He is; he sounded quite dead on the phone this morning… Must've caught a germ or something…" he paused briefly, looking up at the ever-smiling redhead. "Why are you asking?"

"I just thought I could bring a few books to him in case he's got any homework…" Lavi said, flashing his I'm-so-incredibly-friendly-and-not-at-all-suspicious grin before skipping after Kanda, earning several odd looks in the process.

**- o0o -**

Allen choked on the liquid he'd been drinking when he heard the latest thing coming out of the Earl's mouth and he just couldn't help but hope that his ears had deceived him. Once he was able to speak properly again, he spurted out the very first thing that came to mind. "You can't be serious!" he exclaimed, slamming the glass he had been holding onto the table with a clink.

"Tyki reported it in merely minutes ago, so I believe it to be quite accurate," the Earl chuckled, his amusement clearly adhering from the look of absolute horror which briefly graced the white-haired teen's face. "Cross Marian is back."

Gritting his teeth together, Allen clenched hands into fists in an effort to keep them from shaking. Those memories, those terrible, terrible memories…

Pulling himself together, he looked up at the Earl, eyes slightly narrowed. "I'm toast, am I not?"

"Not necessarily," the Earl of the Millennium chuckled. "Not if you agree to my proposition, at least."

Allen's eyes narrowed even further as a slip of paper was presented before him along with a quill by Lulubell. Looking up at the Earl, Allen couldn't help but comment on the rather interesting circumstances. "This is sort of like selling one's soul to the Devil, you know," he noted, gripping the quill as he read through the contract, frowning a bit, but once he was done reading the frown had faded from his face and had been replaced by a look of great determination as he dipped the quill into the ink. "But… it's the principle of the lesser evil as well, I guess…" he continued as he put down his signature neatly onto the contract, looking up at the Earl once he had done so.

The Earl was practically beaming at him.

Allen just hoped he had not made the worst mistake in his entire life.

**- o0o -**


	4. The Poltergeist

**- o0o -**

**- The Poltergeist -**

**- o0o -**

Landscapes flashed by the window at quickening pace, seemingly endless. However, he paid them no heed where he sat in his seat, reading a book for a change, instead of doing as he had done previously, sitting motionless while glaring holes into the wall. Glaring holes into things was really Kanda Yu's piece of cake and as far as Allen was concerned, if Kanda was somehow associated with it, he wanted no part of it.

Shrugging the thought off, he sat up a little straighter in his seat as he flipped through the pages of the guide book about Scotland. It was not all that interesting, but he reasoned that it would probably prove useful at some point since he would probably be roaming the area for quite some time, at least until Cross Marian had left England once more, hopefully permanently this time around.

If so, then Allen thought that striking an all-inclusive deal with the Earl may actually have been worth the trouble it was likely to cause him later, as long as it kept Cross as far away from him as humanly – and inhumanly – possible.

At this very moment, Allen was sitting on a train headed for Edinburgh, reevaluating most of his earlier decisions in life along with the alternatives which currently lay before him. The main reason as to why he had decided on taking a train to Scotland was because it was still within a fair distance of London and England in general and because he hadn't particularly fancied the alternatives of being dropped off in the middle of a street in Los Angeles, San Francisco, New York or Sydney.

But, on the other hand, he pondered, Tokyo had also been an alternative and it really didn't sound too bad from his point of view, if one excluded the possibility of running into millions of Kanda-lookalikes along with the fact that his comprehension of the language spoken in said country was severely limited.

His eyebrows furrowed in concentration. _Maybe learning Japanese wouldn't be such a bad thing after all; I'd be able to insult Kanda in his native language should I ever meet him again…_

He paused, his frown deepening._ Scratch that last part. I seriously did NOT intend to sound like some lovesick puppy._

Allen sighed – in an irritated and tired way and not a longing one – and his stomach let out a growl, like a beast demanding to be fed. His thoughts swiftly relocated elsewhere while nursing his still healing scrapes. _Damn… where is a chicken sandwich when I seriously need one?_

**- o0o -**

He was tired when he arrived in at his destination, but he still found himself wandering the streets instead of doing what would likely have proven itself to be beneficial to his health, namely getting a room at a nearby hotel. However, there was something in the air that caused him to feel restless, leaving him wandering through the streets with no apparent destination in mind.

This was not his first time in the city; according to the records he had been living there during his first years, yet he remembered almost nothing of it. He did recall having asked Cross about it though – trying to put something in the place of the near complete blank that was his early childhood – and the man had responded in a manner which befitted his image in more ways than one, and Allen had never really bothered to ask about it again after that.

Still, even with the blanks, he couldn't help but feel oddly at ease with the somewhat ghostly surroundings as a quite heavy fog drifted in from god-knows-where. It was already evening and the sky got darker by the minute as streetlights flickered into existence. It was an atmosphere fit for the setting of either some sort of horror movie or a thriller. Allen seriously didn't feel like being caught up in either one of them, but with his luck one could never really know.

A gust of cold air caught him slightly off guard and sent a chill across his spine. Allen pulled up his hood and adjusted the collar of his jacket as a measure to keep his body heat from leaking out. Directing his tired gaze upwards, his eyes fell upon a sign on a couple of locked gates which told him exactly where he had just ended up. _Greyfriars Kirkyard._

Silver-gray eyes widened, in surprise as well as in a decent amount of shock. Then, he shut them immediately, barely resisting the sudden urge to do slap himself in the face. _This can't be freaking happening… Honestly, what are the odds?_

Greyfriars Kirkyard… was not the ideal place for Allen to be, especially not when it was nearing nighttime, foggy and just creepy in general. He could see ghosts, hence spending time in a place where great deal of suffering had taken place with several spirits lurking around, unable to go to rest, was a really _really_ bad idea. Even with his knowledge of exorcism, Allen had no intention whatsoever to even enter the cemetery in the first place; people performing exorcism had actually died in there, either due to the thing commonly referred to as the Mackenzie poltergeist or merely from the strain of exorcising too many spirits. No one really knew which and Allen's intention was never to find out.

Another blast of cold air blew into his face and he made a swift decision, turning around and walking away at a fast but determined pace. Dealing with something of this magnitude for free was just not in his world. He didn't do charity work, especially not charity work that harbored such promise of his untimely demise.

He got maybe five or six meters down the road before he felt the temperature in the air around him drop several degrees. He didn't see anything, but he knew the signs of a supernatural assault when he encountered one. Reaching into his backpack, his fingers came upon a bottle of holy water. He didn't have time to think, didn't have time to consider his options; it was either attacking first or getting attacked. He didn't wait. He pulled out the bottle, uncapped it and poured some of its contents into his hand as he started chanting. "You shall not touch me. Not now. Not ever. Not without my permission. You cannot touch me. Not now. Not ever. Not without my permission. You shall not harm me in any way. I will not let you harm me…"

Whatever it was, it was taunting him. Blood started trickling down his left brow and further down his cheek. _Sudden appearances of wounds, scratches and bite marks indicate presence of a demonic entity. Suggested course of action: run, run away as fast as you can._

Allen turned around, determined to make a getaway as he literally threw the contents of the bottles at his invisible assailant. Nothing happened. For a moment the thick atmosphere lightened and the coldness retreated for a few seconds, only to return several times stronger. The strangest sensation shot through him, lasting only mere moments before darkness overcame him and he knew no more.

**- o0o -**

Awareness slowly returned to him. It was the coldness that woke him up more than anything.

His eyes cracked open and he found himself lying in his side next to a tombstone. Scratch that; he was lying on top of a grave, his head hurting like hell, but at least he could tell that the thing which had attacked him wasn't anywhere nearby at the moment, which was good because he would seriously hate to do that twice. He sat up, slowly, surveying his immediate surroundings. He had woken up in many strange places before, but waking up inside a freaking graveyard was certainly a first. His eyes fell upon the gravestone he could vaguely see in the darkness. Fingers reached out, tracing an inscription. _A-L-L-E-N W-A-L-K-E-R_

Okay, now he was certainly not amused, not even in a morbid sense, of waking up on top of a grave belonging to someone carrying exactly the same name as he was. What a… coincidence which was clearly no coincidence at all. _Why the Hell didn't I go to Tokyo when I still had the chance?_

He got up on somewhat shaky legs, looking around and trying to determine where the Hell the exit was. Once he had, he attempted a dash, only to stumble in the darkness, falling flat on his face again. _I seriously hate this._

**- o0o -**

Meanwhile, back in London, Tyki had assembled all the boxes which contained the rest of Allen's materialistic belongings inside his apartment. They weren't that many; most of the boxes contained either books or materials he used in his work. Half of the stuff Allen even owned had been in boxes from the start, as if he had wanted to be prepared for a sudden move elsewhere. As usual, Allen's intuition had been right, even if Tyki couldn't remember Allen ever having mentioned it.

Besides, Tyki had pretty much emptied the place by the time Cross Marian appeared on the threshold. However, something which he did notice was the fact that Cross hadn't seemed particularly surprised about the fact that Allen wasn't around.

Pulling out his phone, he stared at it for several moments. Allen hadn't called; he hadn't even sent a single text message. He knew well that Tyki would make a fuss if he didn't.

A part of Tyki really only wanted to take the first train north and tag along for the adventure, but he knew that the Earl had other plans for him at the moment. It all was very unfortunate, but he was feeling unusually patient at the moment. Maybe it was because he had gotten another round of photos with him and Allen together for once. More photographs for his collection, but he still found himself longing for the original. As usual.

Tyki presumed that Allen, being who he was, had run into trouble already, but he knew pretty well that Allen could take care of himself, for the most part at least. After all, what fun would it be otherwise?

**- o0o -**

Not too surprisingly, Allen actually did know a thing or two about demonic entities, partially because Road had been possessed by entities falling beneath that category quite a few times after all. Oh, and he had also skimmed through the contents of _The Manual on How to Deal with Demonic Entities_ once upon a time…

_Page 67: Never ever battle a demonic entity unprepared. On second thought, never ever battle a demonic entity at all._

_Page 69: Never ever attempt to do an exorcism. It angers them._

Allen rubbed his temples while sitting on the ground, thinking.

_Right… So, mission number one: get out of cemetery in one piece, and hopefully getting my stuff back as well since I can't feel it around here. I would also like getting out before Mr. Mackenzie decides to pay me another visit…_

His ears registered the sounds of voices nearing in on his position, but he hadn't decided yet on whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. It was probably one of those ghost tours for tourists, which was perfect, as long as they didn't put him off as a ghost, that is. After all, they had no doubt opened the gates and Allen had no intention whatsoever to stay the night in a graveyard which had been the scene of the first major concentration camp in history where at least a thousand people had lost their lives, presumably in some sort of agony, and the same place in which a demonic entity roamed the grounds, in search of new victims.

Now, he just needed to find that lost backpack of his and dash. Getting to his feet, Allen was not late to notice the fact that he had apparently sprained his ankle or something. _Great, just bloody terrific…_ _This really isn't my day… or evening or night or whatever._

Sighing deeply, he stood, putting the major part of his weight on the ankle which wasn't hurting like Hell. He spotted the light column of a flashlight approaching even before the sounds of hushed chatter before the tour guide – a young man speaking with a Scottish accent spoke up – relaying information on the location and the haunting before guiding the group in direction of the so called Black Mausoleum in which one Sir George Mackenzie had been buried. Buried – well, more or less – but resting, no.

As far as Allen knew, some homeless guy had been looking for shelter one stormy night and said homeless guy had broken into the then closed off mausoleum. Said homeless guy had also – for some inadequately explained reason – broken the coffin of Sir George Mackenzie, his wife and his children open and, well, things had pretty much gone downhill from there, quite literally, as said man had fallen down into what had been an illegal plague pit.

Closed off and sealed mausoleums meant no worms to help with decomposing bodies, meaning that said bodies in the tomb had yet to properly decompose. Body parts, pieces of flesh, hair, clothing, all of it covered in green and gray slime. Use your imagination; it all adds up to quite a nasty image.

The homeless guy had apparently been covered with this up to his neck and he, quite naturally, let out a scream. He had continued screaming as he climbed out of the pit and ran out of the mausoleum and into the night, scaring the wits out of a security guard and a guard dog on his way out, never to be heard of again. Apparently it was about three days after this that the attacks started, or escalated, Allen didn't really know which. _Regardless…_

He eyed the group of tourists as they passed, not noticing him from the looks of it. Now, should he be sneaking up on them, approach them openly or get the Hell out on his own? He carefully considered his options; with his pretty nonexistent sense of direction and an injured ankle, option number three would be painful and he was very likely to get lost, but on the other hand, it relieved him of the troubles of having to deal with these humans, who would no doubt start asking him troublesome questions he had no intention whatsoever on answering. With that, he had pretty much made up his mind on going for the painful alternative number three, turning his head in the direction he presumed the exit was located, and he was about to get a move on when a sudden voice broke through the silence. "Are you alright?"

The words were spoken in English, but the accent sounded foreign, and they only startled him mildly. "I'm fine," Allen responded through gritted teeth as a jolt of pain shot through his leg.

"You don't sound fine," the owner of the voice said, closer this time. "Need any help?"

Allen gave the foreigner a glance, taking in the blond hair and the somewhat Asian features he caught a glimpse of in the somewhat dark and otherwise poor visual circumstances. Still, there was this somewhat strange feeling about the man, like there was something familiar about him that Allen couldn't quite put his finger on, but he ignored it. "As a matter of fact, I do need help," Allen finally returned, quite sick of it all. "Please point me in the direction of the exit."

**- o0o -**

Bak Chan had seen many more or less interesting things in life, but this newest encounter of his was almost definitely in the top five, maybe even in the top three. He was currently back at the hotel, sitting across the table from his newest source of interest in the shape of one Allen Walker. Said fifteen-year-old was curled up in an armchair with a towel on top of his damp hair, nursing his bruises and bandaged cuts while impassively scanning the room with his silver-gray eyes. He looked tired, which was to be expected from what the teen had been told so far, but he didn't look overly traumatized or anything, which was quite odd. There was always the possibility that he was in a shock, but the great amount of calm radiating from the teen told otherwise; it told of at least a certain amount of experience in the area. "So, rough night, huh?"

Silver-gray eyes darted off in his direction for a brief moment before darting off again, continuing to study the room.

"Not very talkative, are you?" Bak continued in a somewhat cheerful manner as he got up from the chair and stalked across the room. "Tea?"

"Yes, thank you," Allen Walker finally responded before adding "May I ask for your lenience for not being very talkative at the moment?"

"Certainly," Bak returned with a smile as he begun preparing some tea. "I was merely worried you were gonna go mute or something."

He received a snort in response, and his object of interest leant backwards in the chair, staring at the decorated ceiling. "I've seen worse I guess, but the worst thing was not actually seeing what's attacking you, not actually feeling anything until mere moments before it strikes you."

"From what you've told me it sounds like quite an encounter with the so called Mackenzie Poltergeist…" Bak said, his smile widening somewhat. "At least the tour guide was quite helpful in providing details…"

"What sort of a person, homeless or no, breaks into an enclosed tomb and the coffins within it?" Allen spoke up, remembering the quite vivid explanation provided by the very helpful tour guide of how the haunting had escalated. "Who's that bloody stupid?"

"Who knows?" Bak replied, pouring up the tea. "I can think of a few, but at least the one who actually did it must've gotten the scare of a lifetime… Nevertheless, that poltergeist…"

"That is no poltergeist," Allen responded. "Poltergeists have a general lifespan of maybe six months and it has been active for at least ten years and doesn't follow one person… Scratches and bruises indicate some sort of demonic entity."

Taking a sip out of his teacup, Bak leant back with a fascinated look on his face. "You seem very knowledgeable about these things," he said. "Is it a hobby?"

"More like a lifestyle," Allen responded, staring at the teacup before him. "I like to know what I'm up against…"

"Who wouldn't?" Bak responded in a light-hearted manner. "I take it you've realized by now that I too have experienced a weird thing or two…"

"How about a hundred?" Allen responded, looking up. "I sensed the seal on your hand when we shook hands earlier, so may I ask who I am really speaking with?"

"You may," Bak said, sounding quite amused. "Now, as I already mentioned early my name is Bak Chan and I'm an American university student who's originally from China and the reason my hair is blond is because of some genetic quirk courtesy of my grandfather or something like that. I also happen to be a member of a study group with great interest in the paranormal. Satisfied?"

Allen looked at him for several moments before apparently determining that Bak had spoken the truth. "Now I would be absolutely delighted if you would tell me who I am speaking to," the latter said with a smile.

Allen gave him a long evaluating look before shrugging his shoulders. "Allen Walker, exorcist for hire," he finally responded. "On supposed vacation."

**- o0o -**

Once Bak had stopped laughing, and he laughed quite a lot for that matter, Allen decided that he had far overstayed his welcome so he swiped his by then cold tea down in one gulp before getting up and attempting a somewhat polite excuse to take his leave. Bak wasn't having any of it though, as he claimed that letting a mere fifteen-year-old wander around in the dead of night on a night such as this would reflect poorly upon him as a responsible grownup, so Allen ended up staying the night, curled up in the same armchair as before. It didn't look like a very comfortable position to sleep in, but Allen had apparently preferred it over the floor as there was only one bed in the room and that one was being used by Bak.

The night from that point on was actually quite peaceful, by all standards.

**- o0o -**

At the crack of dawn, Allen finally came to, clearly disoriented by the fact that he had fallen asleep in a chair and woke up in a bed, which was presumably the work of the room's other occupant who was nowhere in sight.

As on cue, Bak Chan came waltzing into the room, surprisingly energetic for one who'd been up for the better part of the night before. "Ah, the dead has come back to life," the blond cheerfully announced. "You look like death warmed over."

Allen stared at him, blinked, continued staring and then blinked again, not really grasping the concept of humor this early in the morning. What he did get however was the fact that he needed to get his ass out of bed and get going. He was on the verge of doing just that when the blond Asian dumped a paper bag into his lap. "I got you some fresh bagels," Bak announced. "Or would you have preferred loaf?"

Allen stared at him again, finding it quite hard to comprehend what the foreigner was going on about, especially not when another bag was dumped onto the bed. "Some painkillers and antipyretic; you had a fever this morning."

**- o0o -**

Allen had to admit, he found it quite hard to describe the amiable foreigner, but oddly enough there was something in the man's behavior which reminded Allen about Tyki, possibly or probably because of the man's quite obvious concern in his health and wellbeing. In short, a borderline mother hen. _I should've left last night when I still had the chance to… This person seems about as reluctant to let me go as either the normal Tyki or Road on one of her clingier days…_

Allen did however manage to get away from Bak and was currently sitting in his own hotel room, sighing as he rummaged through his retrieved backpack to try and find something even remotely useful. Fishing out his cell phone he looked at the display, frowning openly. _Twenty-three missed calls and eleven received messages… What the…? School… I didn't know they had my number._

Among the number he could identify, he also had missed calls from several unknown numbers that he didn't intend on paying much attention to, not at the moment at least, since of those eleven messages he'd received – three of them in text and the rest in pictures – proved to be quite interesting and possibly even disturbing.

Allen stared at one of the pictures, depicting him on the way back from one of his assignments. The thing which disturbed him however was not the fact that he apparently had another stalker besides Tyki since it didn't seem to be from him; the disturbing part was the big black shadow thingy which appeared to be stalking him in the picture.

Allen looked at one of the others and the shadow was still there. Still, feeling a disturbed with the whole thing, he discreetly fished out his digital camera, making his way to the bathroom in search of a mirror. Having entered, he shut the door behind him and turned towards the mirror, eyeing out his face which appeared to be far paler than natural, even by his standards; he looked like he had seen a ghost, which wasn't too far away from the truth.

He raised the camera and took a picture using the flash, but he didn't even have to look at the picture he had just taken in order to see it. Just by looking up again, it was suddenly there – in the mirror – grinning at him in some deranged manner with a pair of round glowing white orbs – eyes, apparently – following his every move. There was only one word which was able to summarize the situation at hand and that word was "_creepy_", even if Allen had encountered so called "Shadows" or "Black Masses" before. Being stalked by one on the other hand was a quite new experience in his book and Allen didn't take it too well, exiting the bathroom and collapsing onto the bed, laying on his side for a couple of moments before rolling onto his back, staring at the ceiling while contemplating his next move.

Why did it even matter if some shadow deemed it appropriate to stalk him anyway? It wasn't like the shadow in question had actually tried anything on him yet as far as he was aware.

Being the paranoid person he was though, Allen decided to ward his bed before falling asleep on it, aiming to recover a few of his lost hours while he was still able to do so in some sort of moderate peace. This moderate peace however was rudely interrupted by his phone ringing.

His eyes snapped open and he looked around blearily for a couple of seconds before locating the phone at the bedside table and reaching for it. Looking at the display, he noticed it was a call from the Earl of all people and he immediately picked up, pressing the phone against his ear. _"Good afternoon, Allen Walker."_

"It's eleven a clock," Allen responded. "I'd hardly call that afternoon."

"_Details, details…"_The Earl replied with a chuckle. _"Regardless of which, I have news for you."_

"Such as?" Allen asked, still feeling a bit cross at having been forced to wake up.

"_Well…"_ the Earl slowly replied._"I have some good news and some bad news."_

Allen ran a hand through his hair with a sigh before speaking again. "I see no reason to delay the inevitable any further," he said. "Tell me."

"_Cross Marian has left England,"_ Lulubell suddenly cut in, having been handed the phone.

"And?"

"_He's currently in Scotland."_

Allen blinked tiredly for a second before the realization dawned upon him. "Shit."

"_Shit indeed,"_ Lulubell responded with her usual amount of indifference. _"Hence, you're wanted elsewhere as soon as possible."_

"Elsewhere as in where?"

"_The European mainland,"_ Lulubell responded after a brief moment of silence, apparently having been given new orders_. "You may travel anyway you want as long as you pick up a falsified passport on this address..."_

Allen raised an eyebrow at the information he was receiving, contemplating it for a few moments before finally deciding to affirm it. "So, am I supposed to go undercover as a tourist and am act like one for what purpose?" he asked, silently wondering about this newest whim of the Earl, but on the other hand, it involved money and he was on an all-inclusive contract after all. Allen just hoped it didn't involve frolicking on the beach somewhere.

"_The tourist part is correct, but you are also required to fetch a couple of items."_

Okay, Allen definitely did not like the sound of that; he was an exorcist for goodness sake, not a bloody treasure hunter or a bloody adventurer. Not a dog either for that matter, just a greedy teenager who did dangerous things in exchange for money. "Why not send someone just a little more... inconspicuous than little old me?"

_Trouble stalks me. Why not send someone who can accomplish the task without unnecessary complications?_

"_You raise a valid point,"_ the Earl responded, once again speaking into the phone. _"However, that is exactly the point of this operation, for the Black Order to have their eyes on your activities rather than on the rest of those at my command. You understand what I am implying, no?"_

Allen understood. "So, my main role in this so called operation will be to act as a decoy of sorts while others do the real dirty work, is that correct, sir?"

The chuckle he caught at the other end was enough and when he looked up his eyes were filled with determination. "I'll be on my way."

**- o0o -**

He found himself sitting on yet another train, headed southward, contemplating the rather odd turn his life had recently taken. Less than a week ago, his life had been fairly normal, with him going to school and all that jazz, but nowadays… his life was nothing short of chaotic. Regardless of his currently much more interesting life, Allen did find himself longing for the old days, if one could refer to them as such, when he didn't have to travel across the country on another man's whim.

Besides, the absence of Tyki, both in bodily and terms of contact was proving a little bit unnerving, if not a lot. The Shadow Stalker aside, the visible absence of a person who had been following him around for quite some time was merely strengthening his sudden feeling of paranoia; the feeling that something or someone was out to get him – then again, he already _knew_ that – and was planning on making their move in the near future.

The slightly erratic behavior from the Earl only confirmed his suspicions further that there was something quite fishy going on, especially concerning this whole find and fetch thing. What exactly did the Earl intend for him to find? A treasure of some sort? Drugs? Secret documents? Regardless of which, it sounded like risky business, with the Earl backing him or no.

Allen did however have yet another theory as to why the Earl insisted on handing him these missions that were usually way out of his area of expertise – after all, he was an exorcist and not a treasure hunter or anything the like – the Earl either handed them out to him as a way to evaluate his skills or he just did it to further his own personal amusement since he was a rich person who liked throwing all this money around on more or less pointless things, in Allen's opinion at least.

As the train passed through a tunnel, Allen looked up at the window, spotting the shadow from before as it was being reflected from its position in the seat across from him. The shadow was seemingly giving him a somewhat blank stare and crossed its shadowy arms as if it was waiting for him to do something and doing so with a great deal of patience.

The train got out of the tunnel and the coupe was once again flooded with light from the other side, seemingly erasing every trace of the shadow's very existence. It was still there though; Allen didn't feel it leaving and he didn't think it would do so either. Silently and with a great deal of sarcasm, he congratulated himself on gaining yet another shadow, all while silently wishing that it wasn't just the first out of many more.

Allen leant his head to the side, sighing as he did so and continued looking out of the window. Ghosts he could deal with quite well actually, but the things commonly referred to as shadow people was an entirely different thing to deal with as the shadows themselves couldn't be considered human spirits; theories had it that they were creations out of the human psyche and energies relating to strong and often negative emotions.

Thinking back at his experience at the Greyfriars Kirkyard, Allen silently concluded that the combined effect of about 1,200 humans dying in agony being buried along with their tormentor in the same place owed to be a great if not the ultimate formula on how to create some really wicked existence of quite demonic quantity.

Of course, facing them head on without being properly prepared was one thing and attacking them head on with a plan was completely different, but that still didn't change the fact that people had been committed to psychiatric treatment following the experience and a person performing an exorcism had died soon afterwards. Allen's thoughts regarding these things were surprisingly simple as he brought out a book and started reading. _Better them than me._

Sighing, he looked back out the window.

**- o0o -**


	5. The Catacombs

**- o0o -**

**- The Catacombs -  
**

**- o0o -**

There were a couple of things in this world that Allen could say – even with his experience in the virtually unpredictable – that he never quite honestly expected to see.

One of these things was Tyki Mikk, all dressed up in the spirit of what could possibly be seen as the stereotype of a seemingly lost tourist from afar, carrying this huge heavy-looking backpack and wearing this big high-tech camera around his neck while secretly amber eyes were seemingly spying down at the map in his hand through the tinted lenses of his sunglasses. The fact that he was also on the phone with somebody, speaking quite loudly in Portuguese as he did so, did nothing to contradict the image of a lost tourist, sounding both frustrated and increasingly desperate as he was seemingly speaking to a member of the tour he had apparently been separated from while he continued looking franticly to the right and to the left, eyes seemingly searching for the correct signs. His eyes weren't actually doing so however, as they were looking at the crowd for a few moments before rapidly zeroing in on Allen's position, their eyes meeting in what seemed to be a matter of seconds.

Having been singled out from the crowd in less than half a minute, Allen just couldn't help but wondering if Tyki had some sort of Allen-radar or something, which was very much possible since the guy in question wasn't to be called a stalker for nothing. Either way, it didn't matter which to him, or at least so Allen thought as a smile graced his lips for a few moments before his facial expression settled back into a neutral one as he boarded the train which would take him beneath the English Channel to France.

Gods, his French sucked… so he'd taken the time and money to buy one of those useful little language books filled with various phrases and stuff. He'd already started picking out his favorite phrases, just as a means to entertain himself for a while.

"_J'ai un problème."_ _I have a problem._

"_Je ne parle pas français_._"_ _I don't speak French._

And _"Fiche-moi la païx, merde", _literally meaning _"Leave me the shit/Hell alone"_

Yep. Quite useful phrases.

Allen wondered if he should've gotten one on Japanese too. Oh well, it was too late to regret it now. He could always get one later if he wanted to, Allen supposed.

**- o0o -**

Kanda glared daggers at the eccentric man – his superior in rank and the vice principal of his school – where he sat huddled in the backseat of a black minivan Black Order members used for transportation with the Hammer-Idiot and the Soccer-Idiot of all people. Lavi and Daisya. Loud and obnoxious like few others.

Kanda continued glaring daggers at the back of Komui Lee, who was sitting in the driver's seat and humming to himself while Lenalee Lee – who was sitting in the front seat – looked back at them with an almost apologetic smile on her face. Almost; Kanda was sure she was really laughing on the inside.

Road trip. It was a word as poisonous as cyanide gas. Especially when being shut inside a car with people he had a hard time putting up with – overly cheerful or noisy in general – for hours, seemingly to no end. That was a road trip, a seemingly endless but agonizing experience when one couldn't even knock oneself out or fall asleep in order to escape it – Lavi would doodle on his face and braid his hair if he did that – so Kanda's only consolation was his mp3-player… and the small sword – a _wakizashi_ – that he was clutching in his hands; it wasn't like Mugen at all and was merely around thirty centimeters long, but it was better than nothing and easier to hide.

Why were they even going on this ridiculous road trip anyway?

Komui's explanations and motives were as unclear as usual and had involved something about a mission and getting to something before someone else got to it… Oh, and something along with the lines of finding Allen Walker and dragging him back to school.

Why?

He didn't really know why, but it was an order from the higher-ups, so rejecting the request was not an option, not yet at least. Either way, Kanda considered it unneeded trouble; if the Bean Sprout wanted to drop out of school he could do so. If the Bean Sprout wanted to get involved in risky business, then Kanda thought he should just go ahead, get into some deep shit and suffer, during which time Kanda would appear and laugh at his misery. And yes, Kanda was still slightly pissed at the fact that Allen Walker had nailed him with holy water back then, but his bile wasn't only directed at Allen for getting him soaked; it was also directed at Kanda himself, as he had been unable to avoid getting sprayed with it. To be completely honest, it was an insult to his training and his reflexes in general, him getting nailed by an attack coming from a mere amateur who hadn't received any training whatsoever in the area as far as the Order was aware and they sure knew a lot, having conducted several investigations previously and performing one now as well by the looks of it.

However, even though it was a fact that Kanda couldn't stand the white-haired teenager in question, he did at least to some extent find Allen Walker a quite interesting person, judging by the reports at least. He never spoke highly of him however, rarely spoke of him at all except in spiteful words and curses every now and then, but that was his way after all. At least on some level, Kanda did find it in himself to admit that he sort of pitied the guy, at least regarding the part involving Cross Marian, another person Kanda found it extremely hard to stand, and whatever horrors the guy may have subjected him to.

To be completely honest, the more Kanda learnt about Allen Walker, the more of an enigma the white-haired teen became; Allen Walker did possess the power to interact with both the living and the dead although mostly the latter since the kid was almost as asocial as Kanda himself. The only exception to this was the teen's illusive neighbor, a dark-haired man in his twenties or thirties who was seemingly of South European origin. Said illusive neighbor, who could more accurately be labeled stalker by anyone with even half a brain, rarely did anything else than either visiting relatives – henchmen of the Millennium Earl, no doubt – and… well… stalking Allen Walker, who surprisingly enough didn't seem to mind it much.

Allen Walker did however seem to mind the fact that the Black Order was conducting investigations on him and his activities while he seemingly accepted the Earl's meddling in his life without a fuss, going as far as to perform an exorcism alone against several malevolent spirits and one demon-possessed girl even though such a task very well could've been fatal if he had been unlucky. This indicated – or rather, it _established_ – that the Millennium Earl was making an effort to rope Allen Walker into one of his devilish plots, possibly with the motive of making him one of "them".

Having a person with that amount of spiritual capacity and overall potential either roam loose or join the Earl was not a thing which would be tolerated by the higher-ups or by anyone else in the Order for that matter. As far as Kanda knew, Allen Walker would likely join eventually, regardless of whether he wished to do so or not. Still, it was quite interesting how a decision made by the leaders of a nongovernmental organization was sufficient for snuffing some of the basic civil rights of a fifteen-year-old. This, Kanda suspected, was one of the reasons as to why Allen Walker showed no intention of turning down the Earl's courting attempts; the Millennium Earl and his financial empire was fully capable of both sustaining him economically and grant him at least some amount of protection from the Order – at the expense of his personal freedom of course, since it made him little more than a servant in the long-term perspective. Kanda knew this and Allen Walker himself likely knew that as well.

It was quite ironic after all, being on unfriendly terms as they were, they understood each other at some level, or at least Kanda assumed they did. On second thought, scratch that; he understood Allen Walker to a certain degree while the other didn't get shit about him… So much for actually considering his potential enemy considerably intelligent…

He sighed deeply.

"Yu? Yu?" Idiot number one was trying to get his attention. "Are you in there?"

"Leave Grumpy alone," Idiot number two responded. "He's probably just considering _seppuku_ to escape this road trip or something."

Seppuku. Funnily enough, Kanda hadn't even contemplated suicide as of yet. If it would involve killing then it may as well be them and not him. Yep, before seppuku he would definitely consider offing the others first. In case that failed, he could always get lost on purpose and join up with a group of Japanese tourists or something.

So… France.

Kanda sighed again, failing to see what others were getting all excited about. Didn't these idiots get that whenever Allen Walker was around people was bound to get into some serious trouble? Why even volunteer for that sort of thing in the first place?

Still, regardless of how much he disliked this mission in general, he couldn't very well refuse now, could he? After all, it was common knowledge that the Order didn't look all too kindly at so called traitors.

Either way, France likely meant Paris and Paris likely meant catacombs. Catacombs likely meant haunted catacombs and haunted catacombs certainly meant happy hunting. It had been quite a while since he had encountered a real challenge.

**- o0o -**

Allen Walker was curious to say the least, looking around as the group of tourists passed through yet another underground chamber littered with bones… more like decorated with hundreds or even thousands of human bones and skulls. It was a quite morbid scenery, but it was the presences that lingered beyond that which had his senses tingling like crazy. Still, this was merely a guided tour in the more… controlled part of the catacombs. The things which Allen sought lay further down and deeper within, but he was fairly well prepared though, by his own standards at least. _Man, I wish I had brought along a carbide lamp…_

Oh well, maybe he didn't have a carbide lamp but he still had a flashlight, several batteries, a voice recorder (which hadn't been his idea; it had kind of been forced upon him), his cell phone, a notebook, a couple of pencils and markers in bright colors. Among a lot else, meaning that his backpack wasn't much of a lightweight anymore.

On the other hand, this was merely foreplay since he would be going back down there into the part of the catacombs not open to the public, sneaking through one of the entrances which had not been sealed off by the authorities yet. So, this visit was merely a preview, a bit of acting like a tourist before going through with the real deal on the following day. To say the least, he was not looking forward to it.

Allen glanced at his phone, checking the time. Of the 45 minutes the tour lasted, almost thirty had already passed, meaning that the tour would be ending soon. He had walked through almost two kilometers during this guided tour, meaning that there were still about 300 kilometers left to explore… not that he would actually venture into all the places, Hell no, he would go to the designated place, get what he had been asked to get and find his way back without getting lost on the way, seeing to the fact that getting lost down there in the tunnels not open to tourists was pretty much the same as signing one's own death sentence. Allen – being somewhat of an expert when it came to getting lost – was a bit worried and for good reason at that, seeing that his GPS-device did not work underground and as such he had to rely on a map he'd copied from one of the so called cataphiles, urban explorers that ventured into and mapped the catacombs.

Knowing well to research the location beforehand, Allen knew the approximate length of tunnels and that people speculated that there may be up to seven levels of them. Even with some of the tunnels either collapsed or filled with water, there were still a lot of tunnels left and from what he had heard, there were places down there where the floors were covered with layers upon layers of bones which had ended up there after having been exhumed from the cemeteries of Paris during the seventeen and eighteen hundreds because the city had gotten too crowded and needed more space. Millions of bodies, all assembled down underground.

Seeing that he was still very much a part of the living, Allen didn't exactly have much experience in the area of being dead, but from his point of view, it was perfectly natural if at least some of the people whose graves had been exhumed were at least slightly pissed at having their remains dumped down there in the catacombs. It was just plain disrespectful… and one of the reasons he would prefer being cremated once he had bitten the dust. Hopefully though, that was several years away as he had no real wish to die this young.

Either way, according to what Allen had heard, people had claimed to have started hearing voices and unexplained noises along with having seen so called shadow people along with other apparitions… more shadow people? That was just great. Maybe with his luck, he would get a whole bunch of them to start following him around. Gods, he hoped not.

Sighing heavily, Allen looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the daylight from the world above. After all, it held little meaning for him to ponder what he might be subjected to next time he ventured down there; that was a thing which the wretched thing called tomorrow would eventually reveal to him.

"Well, that surely was an experience in itself," Tyki announced with a yawn before pulling out a pair of sunglasses and putting them on. "You've been awfully quiet lately; is something the matter?"

Allen shook his head, putting on a cap. "It's nothing," he replied with a shrug. "I'm just a little tired."

Tyki hummed for a few moments before stretching his stiff limbs. "Let's go grab a bite or something," he then said. "I'm starving."

"Was that your overly unromantic way of asking me to dine with you?" Allen asked, sounding amused. "I must say, I'd expected you to be just a bit more… well… clingy… since we're in Paris and all…"

"_Qui n'aime pas Paris?"_ Tyki asked, earning himself an odd look from the aforementioned teen. "'Who does not love Paris'. Did I get it right?"

Allen merely shrugged. "How the Hell am I supposed to know?"

"Besides," Tyki continued. "Like you I am here as a tourist, so establishing an image as a pedophile of all things wouldn't help either of us, you know?"

"True," Allen said without changing his facial expression. "But just so you know my current passport claims I've recently turned eighteen…"

"Damn you for being such a tempter, Allen."

The teen in question laughed out loud. After all, it was sort of pointless to worry about things that would likely occur the following day, regardless of how traumatizing they were likely to become. Either way, maybe he should bring along a souvenir or something like that. Maybe a femur or something, just to use it as a baseball bat to hit someone he didn't like. On second thought, Allen was pretty sure he wouldn't be using anyone's femur to play baseball. And no, he definitely would not be doing a Hamlet impression using one of the skulls down there. Definitely not. Or just maybe, in case he suffered a temporary bout of insanity, which was not very likely.

**- o0o -**

Climbing over a wall. Balancing on top of a thin stone edge above this large hole in the ground. Through the tunnels, following an abandoned railway track.

Darkness. Thick darkness.

Then, along came a small hole within the dark tunnel, a manmade hole leading underground.

For once, Allen was quite relieved by the fact that he lacked some in the height department and was quite thin otherwise, as it would otherwise have been very difficult – if not impossible – for him to walk, crawl and whatnot through the cramped tunnels leading deeper underground.

Having put on a helmet with a flashlight attached to it with a rubber band – Tyki had borrowed said helmet from one of those retired cataphiles, telling Allen to mind his pretty little head when he went down there before they had gone their separate ways – Allen had enough light to make his way deeper underground, regularly checking the map as he sometimes found himself crawling through cramped spaces, sometimes walking upright, sometimes wading through groundwater reaching above his knees or pressing himself through some extremely cramped holes, all while dragging his backpack with him.

To sum it up quite nicely, he was by then wet and muddy up to his knees and his clothes – consisting of an old pair of jeans and a hoodie – definitely looked like they had seen better days. In addition, he was tiring quickly of this ridiculous expedition, all while his body ached and he had barely even gotten started. Nevertheless, he was not unprepared – not completely, at least – as he had brought along supplies and emergency supplies to keep himself sustained for the very brief time he intended to spend down there. He had also brought along another flashlight, batteries and a lot of other stuff besides the items he carried around for the use of exorcism, although Allen still held onto some sort of feeble hope that he would get in and out without actually engaging anything overly supernatural and/or extremely dangerous, but really, with his luck he had better prepare to encounter just about anything as he went even deeper.

However, Allen actually found himself quite relieved at the moment, as the few presences he had sensed since he had entered so far had either been too weak to be much of a threat to him or simply not interested in attacking him or following him around. Really, ghosts should do that more often. Humans should as well; Black Order hounds especially.

Speaking of which, Allen did kind of wonder what the Order people would do now that he had decidedly dropped out of school to fraternize himself with the man who had been made out to be their supposed mortal enemy. Not that his sayings and doings were any of their business really; in case the Order really was tracking him down in this very minute, then Allen himself could pretty safely conclude that the people in the Order had no lives… outside of harassing him and putting their long noses where they certainly did not belong.

Allen tiredly shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as the flashlight attached to his helmet flashed some light onto the walls nearby, revealing the fact that they were apparently covered in graffiti. Pulling out his other flashlight, Allen turned it on to further survey the area, finding himself in some sort of underground chamber. Whatever the place had been previously, it had now turned into some sort of hidden art gallery, courtesy of whatever graffiti artists had found their way down there for what seemed to be quite a while ago.

Finding this place as good a temporary resting place as any, Allen shrugged the backpack off his shoulder, placing it onto the ground before sinking down into a sitting position next to it, looking around for a brief moment before looking at his jeans, still soaked up to the knee from earlier. He would at least catch a cold from this experience; that much was for certain, although he once again feebly hoped that he would be getting away with just that and nothing really serious or life-threatening, but once again, considering his luck then he would no doubt end up with not only a trauma from a near-death experience but also pneumonia.

Looking at the map, Allen swiftly calculated his position on the map and the approximate distance to his supposed target. Judging by his current speed – or lack thereof – and the rather troublesome terrain, it would take him at least two or three hours to go there and return to the place where he was at the moment, and approximately an additional hour or so to find his way out the passage through which he had entered, which added up to a total of at least four more hours underground. Joy. And he hadn't even gotten around to the rumored bone yards yet.

Taking a deep breath, Allen steeled himself, pulling his backpack from the floor and slinging it back onto his shoulder as he stood up and started making his way deeper into the catacombs, which became more and more reminiscent of a maze the deeper he went. Marking the walls with red pieces of the tape he had brought along, he went further down the mazelike corridors, his feet feeling all cold and wet – he made a silent note to himself never again to wear sneakers when exploring catacombs – Allen was still fairly confident that he would be able to find his way back again as long as he could still walk properly and had access to a source of light.

Suddenly he stopped, sensing something. Looking around warily, he reached into his backpack, rummaging it for anything remotely useful. A sudden shiver ran down his spine, signaling the arrival of something troublesome, just as Allen himself managed to pull out a couple of ofuda, charging them immediately, all while making a decent job out of ignoring his primal instincts – _run away, run away, run away_ – while thinking happy thoughts. "I would've preferred to avoid all this but I guess there's no choice then," he said, lowering himself into position. "Either go back to whence you came or step forward; I'm not here to fight…"

_At least I hope not; battles in underground maze are a hassle… not that I've ever had much experience but still…_

Either way, in case the current scenario at hand did turn out into a battle, Allen already had a couple of major disadvantages; without light he would become a sitting duck, meaning that it would become his ultimate weakness if he didn't…

Eyes widening in realization, he suddenly brought his hands up to his face while he forced his eyes shut. It was a weird feeling; he had to admit that much, cursing his own stupidity while he was at it; relying solely on modern science, honestly, what had he been thinking?

He needed to rely more on his bloody intuition for goodness sake… the same intuition which told him to stay put, saying the exact opposite his instincts did, which had been and was still telling him to run. Maybe his intuition had flipped out or something?

Then, Allen heard them. Footsteps. Heavy.

Swallowing his suddenly rising feeling of panic, he let his hands fall to his sides. He took a deep breath to steady himself before slowly opening his eyes again, finding himself eye to eye with his opponent… who he actually appeared to be looking down upon.

A shadow figure the size of a child stood before him, staring blankly at him with a pair of pale glowing orbs above this insanely large grin which looked frighteningly familiar somehow.

Surprisingly enough, Allen wasn't even remotely intimidated by the shadowy figure which stood before him, not even when the supposed child grew even taller until it was about the same height as him, wearing the selfsame borderline insane grin.

"You again?" Allen finally said, recognizing the figure as the same one he had previously encountered back there in Edinburgh, relaxing somewhat after a few tense moments, slipping his ofuda into his sleeves for later use. "Seriously, have you followed me here all the way from Britain?"

There was little change in the shadow's facial expression, but Allen thought he had seen a slight nod. Seriously, the shadow just seemed to be getting more corporal each time he saw it. Creepy.

"You know…" Allen continued, removing his helmet and raking his previously occupied hand through his messy hair while using the other to keep the flashlight trained upon the figure. "Calling you Shadow Person or Shadow Stalker is getting pretty old; do you have any other name I can possibly call you?"

The only real reply he got was a blank stare.

**- o0o -**

Kanda swore – adding in every colorful profanity he could ever think of in the process – that he would seriously hurt whichever bright idiot (Komui) had just ordered him (and Lavi and Daisya) to venture deep down into the underground to retrieve some runaway brat who seriously wanted very little to do with them, all while said idiot (Komui) went out with his little-sister on some bloody improvised (yet seemingly well planned out) vacation. Kanda was no idiot – really, that was just a silly misconception courtesy of those other idiots in his immediate surroundings. Komui spent a lot of time longing to take Lenalee with him to France and visit Paris, meaning that this road trip and what followed had very much been planned out at some point, at least if the various tourist brochures hidden in the locked second drawer on said superior's desk could be believed.

Really, standing there inside the abandoned railway tunnel and keeping guard while the idiots made their way inside the small manmade hole in the ground, Kanda found himself asking how come an influential and respected organization like the Black Order hadn't managed (more likely hadn't bothered) to sweet-talk the French and Parisian authorities into just opening up one of the sealed entrances to the catacombs instead of making him and the idiots sneak in using one of the still open and very much illegal ones which were still in existence. Kanda found that he would almost definitely pose that question to his superiors later on once (if) he got out. Especially so in case there really was some sort of secret tunnel police they could be caught by (with the loud and boisterous Hammer-Idiot and Soccer-Idiot at his side, they were quite likely to).

Either way, Kanda imagined that he likely looked rather stupid at the moment, wearing a helmet, a ridiculously big sweat shirt – it had belonged to Marie once upon a time – a pair of old jeans, knee-length boots along with kneepads, elbow-pads, gloves and night vision goggles (that were originally American military technology, copied down and improved by one of those science freaks in the Order). Besides the wakizashi hanging at his hip, he was also equipped with a backpack (as were the two idiots) which contained a decent amount of rope, a first-aid kit (because obviously, no one else would ever remember to bring one along), a Swiss army knife, a water bottle, emergency rations, a camera – which was Komui's, hence Kanda wouldn't even have to pretend to be sorry in case he trashed it, as it was quite clear the bastard bloody deserved it – along with a cell phone (which not much use underground with the poor reception and all, but far more useful in knowing the time).

"Come on Yu! We don't have all day!"

Kanda snorted, sending his backpack in advance down the cramped hole he would soon crawl through himself. A challenging mission or no; it was still a royal pain in the ass.

Oh well, if Lady Luck was still with him deeper underground, then he would just ditch the morons and continue on his own.

**- o0o -**

Tyki calmly lit a cigarette as he leaned his back against a brick wall, putting his hands inside the pockets of his coat as he tilted his head back a little, looking at nothing in particular. Really, sending his Allen down there, what was the Earl thinking? Scratch that; it was quite obvious what the man in question was thinking, although it was certainly a risky bet, seeing to the fact that whatever happened down there would almost definitely determine the nature of Allen's fate, even though it did take a lot of self-restraint on his part not to drop through the ground right then and there and go after him. His ability to walk through things didn't only apply to walls after all.

Either way, he would not get himself involved; not yet at least. Later maybe, in case Allen didn't return within the set time limit, because by then Tyki would be very worried (and showing symptoms of withdrawal). Nonetheless, from his currently quite elevated position, he had a quite good view of the abandoned railway tunnels, meaning that he would immediately be able to spot any movements, like the ones from the Black Order brats who went into the secret entrance a mere half hour previously.

Tyki exhaled some smoke before once again putting the cigarette back into his mouth.

So the Black Order brats were after his Allen, huh? Well, they weren't getting him, not on his watch at least, going against the Earl's orders or not.

**- o0o -**

Allen – once again wearing his helmet – made his way further down into the catacombs, trailed by the Shadow all the way, not really minding the presence which was following him around since apparently it had certain benefits to it. After all, nothing else that was to be considered supernatural had appeared in his vicinity, and even those he could sense at a distance seemed to dart off in the opposite direction whenever he came around, which was quite nice for a change, even if it was because the Shadow was trailing after him. Still, the whole shadow thing aside, Allen himself had a mission to accomplish so that he could get the Hell out of there as soon as possible.

Once again looking down at the map, Allen tried to pinpoint his location, failing at it all the same. Sighing heavily he then stopped, crouched down and placed the map onto the floor before rummaging his backpack. Soon enough, his finger came into contact with a small box, out of which he pulled the desired item; a crystal pendulum.

Holding his hand out, he kept his hold onto the long thin chain as he let the pendulum drop as far as the attached chain would allow it, holding it that way until the pendulum finally went perfectly still for a couple of seconds. _Current position?_

The pendulum swung back and forth for a while before it suddenly went very still and became heavy for a second, causing him to lower it until it came into contact with one of the spots on the map. Pulling out one of his markers, Allen marked his position before once again concentrating deeply. _Position of target?_

Another place was indicated, confirming the information he had been given, locating the target nearby judging by the readings he were getting.

Allowing himself a brief smile of triumph, Allen was right about to put the map away and continue his mission when he suddenly received a light tap on a shoulder. He turned, once again coming face to face with the shadow while the light attached to his helmet helped distinguish its shape further from the rest of the darkness which surrounded them. "What is it?" he asked, turning around to look in the direction the Shadow was pointing, the one he had come from. "Is something there?"

Allen himself couldn't sense anything – not yet, at any rate – but now that he thought of it, he had been getting these chills for maybe the last half an hour or so, making him feel just a bit uneasy. However, this was not the kind of chills he normally experienced around ghosts and stuff related to them; it was more like the feelings he sometimes experienced at school if he had an unfortunate encounter with one of the Black Order students.

He turned towards the Shadow. "They're here, are they not?" he said, stealing another glance at the corridor behind him before once again moving forward, quickening his pace considerably as he did so. The Shadow was still following, keeping up with him as though the increase in pace meant nothing at all.

Then, after a couple of minutes Allen suddenly stopped, closing his eyes as he listened for something that had been echoing in the outward boundaries of his senses. After listening closely for almost a minute, he was finally certain of it. A pair of footsteps. The sound of heavy boots – heavy wet boots, from the sound of it – approaching. They were still quite far away from what Allen could tell from the echoes bouncing between the walls and travelling down the lengthy tunnels and corridors Allen himself had made his way through not long before. It was a determined stride; Allen was able to determine that much without difficulty. He did not know for sure who those footsteps belonged to, but he was pretty sure of one thing; he did not want to be found by whoever was coming, he did not want to be caught.

This desire was transformed into action as he slipped into a small chamber – threading carefully as the floor was covered with dry and brittle bones – trying to make his steps as quiet as possible before slipping into position by the wall, putting out both of his flashlights, waiting.

He waited like that for several minutes, but to him it felt almost like hours. Still, when nothing had occurred during those minutes Allen once again gathered his stuff, slipping out into the corridor and making his way down it, traveling in silence and complete darkness while using his intuition and other senses to guide him through the maze. Oddly enough, he felt really confident all of a sudden, knowing his way even in the pitch black darkness like it was the most natural thing to him. His fingertips trailed on the wall but then suddenly he stopped, putting his hand out right in front of him, somehow aware of the fact that he could go no further.

A sudden blast of cold air connected with him, momentarily surprising him enough to make him lose his footing as he tripped on something in the darkness. "Oh, fu-…"

**- o0o -**

Meanwhile, in a dark tunnel not too far away, the redhead otherwise known as Lavi finally looked up from the map he had been staring himself blind at for the last ten minutes or so, making an announcement. "We're so lost."

His companion, otherwise known as Daisya Barry, looked around. "Where's Yu?"

They stared at each other in silence. Daisya was the first one to speak. "He ditched us, didn't he?

Lavi sighed. "Sure looks like it…"

"Still, he didn't bring a map along now, did he?" Daisya asked.

"Apparently not," Lavi replied with a shrug.

"And _he_ calls _us_ idiots?"

**- o0o -**

To say that Allen woke up with a killer headache was a grave understatement. To say that he was glad to be waking up at all – even with the pain it brought along – was not. Either way, waking up at the bottom of a deep pit was not a very pleasurable experience, although it certainly could have been worse.

Getting up on unsteady legs, he calmly checked himself over for any injuries. Other than his head – which still hurt a lot but had been mostly protected by the helmet – his injuries seemed minor, and as such, he turned his attention to investigating the area. Immediately discarding any ideas he might have had in regards of using the darkness in order to conceal himself, Allen checked if the flashlight attached to his helmet was still working. It wasn't – not that it surprised him very much with the way he fell – so he started looking for his other flashlight.

As it turned out, his other flashlight had survived the whole ordeal, which was nice, especially since he was now able to have a look around and see where he had ended up and how he was supposed to get out of there. Turning it on, a column of light illuminated the walls of the pit, along with the red writing which was on them. Allen paid this discovery no heed, turning the flashlight upwards, estimating the height from which he had fallen. _This thing's pretty deep…_

Allen turned his flashlight back to the walls, checking to see if they were even remotely climbable or if he' would have to spend the rest of his days inside the pit he had somehow fallen into. Determining the walls climbable enough, Allen swung his backpack over his shoulder, holding onto the flashlight with his teeth to have his hands free as he attempted to make his way out of there. Thankfully enough, the pit wasn't too large, meaning that the walls were not that far away from each other, making the climb hell of a lot easier.

Once he had finally heaved himself over the edge, he found himself on the ground panting, as the climb had apparently taken more out of him than he had thought. Looking around, he could conclude that the Shadow Stalker was nowhere to be found, a fact which he paid very little heed to as he instead reached into his backpack, starting to look for his cell phone in order to check the time, only to find his fingers brushing against something else instead. Allen pulled it out, realizing it was the bloody tape recorder which had been kind of forced on him earlier for reasons unknown. He then proceeded to check it for any previous recordings or stuff to the like, feeling both a bit disappointed and a bit relieved when he didn't find anything. A grim smirk then appeared on his face before he put it down on the floor in favor of fetching a bottle of pills from his backpack.

Once he had successfully downed an appropriate amount of painkillers – he never left the house or country for that matter without them – he finally picked up the discarded tape recorder, setting it onto record. "Hi, my name is Allen Walker," he started while sounding all happy and uptight about it. "I am approximately fifteen-years-old at the moment, but with my luck I seriously doubt I'll be seeing twenty. Nevertheless, life's been great lately; my debt-making womanizing drunkard of a useless ex-guardian wants to get back into my life again, a religious Order of supernatural freaks is stalking me, my current boss gets a kick out of dressing up in bunny costumes and I have recently escaped the country with my other supernatural stalker, a nice bloke who can walk through walls… Oh, and I have just managed to climb out of an approximately five meter deep pit deep inside the catacombs of Paris after having had the great idea to walk around without a flashlight in a vain attempt to conceal myself…"

He paused briefly, taking a couple of deep breaths before he continued, a slight amount of seriousness slipping into his voice. "The reason as to why I am recording this is… well… basically in case I don't make it out of here in one piece… or alive at all for that matter… Oh well, I can worry about that later on… probably… Anyways, the point is I have something I need to retrieve and then, once I've attained it, I intend to get the fuck out of here… on record time, really… I just hope nobody follows be out…"

Well, nobody and nothing was around at the moment, which was quite strange on more levels than one. Convenient nonetheless, since he needed to work out a new strategy, as his old one had been proven surprisingly ineffective, if not completely worthless. "It's about half part one in the afternoon. I intend to be out of here by six…" he said. "Oh, and Tyki… in case this recording is all that people will ever find of me… then I'm sorry… for ruining your spontaneous vacation. Bye!"

Turning the voice recorder off and putting it away, Allen gathered his stuff and was on his way, glancing back into the corridor before once again getting a move on, well conscious to the fact that he was once again being followed.

**- o0o -**

Allen's intuition led him to a crypt lit up by a strange ethereal light emitted from some strange glowing orb lying on top of a pile of bones. With all due honesty, it was a rather strange sight and actually a new one for Allen, which was quite an feat as he had seen a lot during the short life he had led up until that point. Regardless, Allen was pretty sure he had never seen anything like it, but he still had a fair idea of what it could possibly be. _Vaguely green-glowing orbs containing what looks like a small golden cube with a pair of cogwheels wrapped around it… so… that's obviously Innocence or whatever it was called…_

Not innocence, as in innocence and guilt and that sort of shit, but as in an odd supernatural phenomenon referred to as Innocence. Allen frowned; his knowledge of the phenomenon itself was quite limited as it was mainly based on hearsay. Getting confirmation on what little info he had wasn't that easy either since the people who studied it (the Black Order) were quite tight-lipped about it to outsiders.

Removing the glove from his left hand, Allen watched with morbid interest as the cross imbedded in his palm emitted a similar glow, as if it was resonating at the sudden proximity of another unit of Innocence. He had always wondered what was up with his left hand and he had at least on some occasion had a fleeting suspicion that it might have been related to Innocence, a suspicion which could now pretty much be confirmed judging from how the cross and the Innocence on the floor resonated with each other. This keen observation, along with the suspicion that the Black Order harnessed the power of Innocence in order to perform exorcism, led Allen to the following conclusions:

A) All those admitted to the class for especially gifted students harnessed the power of Innocence.

B) The suspected Innocence imbedded in his palm along with his aptitude regarding things supernatural were likely the reason he on a pretty constant basis had the Order breathing down his neck.

C) Allen himself still had no bloody intention whatsoever of joining the Order, due to his general disinterest in fighting for a sake he likely did not believe in – for the better good or something idiotic like that – working with people he was pretty sure he harbored a great dislike towards, risking a potential reunion with his hated ex-guardian – without having the opportunity to off him and make it look like an accident – and whatnot.

Besides, on a side note; in case Allen ever did suffer a temporary loss of sanity and join the bloody cult, then that would obviously be the definite end to his budding relationship with Tyki along with all the free pizza he had been getting so far.

On the other hand, in case Allen ever joined the Black Order – by his own free will, out of a temporary boot of insanity or at gunpoint/sword-point – Tyki Mikk would obviously – being the stubborn and somewhat greedy man that he was – not take the whole thing lying down. The man was originally a stalker after all; Allen wouldn't put it past him to stage some sort of kidnapping in case a simple persuasion attempt failed.

Shaking his head, Allen returned to the present as he stood there inside the crypt, staring at the Innocence lying there on top of a pile of bones. Having already established that it was likely Innocence and all, Allen just couldn't help but wonder why the Hell the Earl had sent him to hunt down some bloody unit of Innocence in some remote crypt deep underground. Then, considering it for a couple of seconds, Allen decided to take a guess that since no one in the Earl's party – not as far as he was aware, at least – used Innocence, the Millennium Earl was likely moving by the principle which Allen had privately labeled _"I don't really need it, but since I know that you need it, I'm just making sure you can't have it"_, basically sabotaging his enemies or something along those lines…

As far as that was concerned, Allen had no problems with the whole thing; he just had this little thing against going down all alone into catacombs infested with supernatural entities just to retrieve an item a person like Tyki could've fetched by simply having walked up to the spot right above it and letting himself fall through the ground or something.

Sighing, Allen finally admitted out loud to himself what this was really about. "It's a stupid test…"

Stupid. Dangerous. Unnecessary. _Geez, I do wonder what the Earl is thinking, risking the life and limb of Road's on-off babysitter…_

Either way, what the Earl was thinking was totally irrelevant in Allen's current standing; he'd finally located the target and now only needed to get his ass out of this bloody maze while trying his best not to encounter anything troublesome, which he would almost definitely do considering his track record.

Then, as if on freaking cue, something appeared behind him again.

Allen turned around, smiling wryly at the arrival of the raven-haired exorcist and his rather interesting getup with a pair of night-vision goggles along with the rather interesting weapon said person appeared to be in possession of. "Is that a bloody femur you're swinging around, BaKanda?"

Kanda Yu snorted while pulling his goggles from his eyes and onto his forehead, all while giving said femur another trial swing before giving his response. "Shut the Hell up, _Moyashi_. It's still way more effective than the weapon I had when I entered this godforsaken place…"

The wry smile still hadn't left Allen's face, even when he was inwardly creating these elaborate schemes as to how he would possibly be able to escape a determined Kanda armed with a pair of night-vision goggles. _Damn the wonders of modern technology…_

Then again, there were also these far less complicated variations of the whole hit-and-run strategy he could always try to utilize in case there was an opportunity for it.

Nevertheless, the night-goggles themselves wouldn't have much use at the current seeing to the fact that the crypt itself was quite illuminated, courtesy of both the Innocence and Allen's flashlight. "Tell me, BaKanda," Allen finally said, keeping his voice neutral. "Have you made it into your mission in life to be my personal nuisance?"

"Not really," he responded with a snort. "Although it's quite obvious that you have…"

Allen snorted, "How so? I've never asked you people to stalk me," he said, reaching down and grabbing a hold of a human cranium which just happened to be within his reach. "'_To be or not to be a stalker'_, that is the true question, right?" he continued, doing a mock impression of Hamlet while he was at it, before using the momentum created from the surprise and "you're-bloody-mad" expression which would be found on his opponent's face, he swiftly threw the skull at the other before grabbing another one as the first was effectively deflected by his foe. It barely even occurred to him that he was desecrating the human remains – some of which had likely belonged to some of the spirits roaming the catacombs at some point in time, making it rather likely that he'd upset quite a few of them with his recent actions. However, in his current situation, he obviously didn't give a damn as it was the only thing he could do in order to provide a proper distractive maneuver so that he'd be able to swipe down and get the Innocence fragment before attempting a getaway, although his chances of succeeding looked fairly grim at that moment. Still, it was better than doing nothing, so Allen decided to give it a shot.

Although it did seem like Kanda had at least to some part figured out certain details in his elaborate master plan – since obviously, it didn't take a genius to figure out he'd go for the hit-and-run strategy, because that's what most people did when they got fairly desperate and had no other way out except maybe committing suicide or giving themselves up – Allen still went along with it, throwing the second skull in Kanda's direction, just as the man himself had apparently been on the verge of attacking, which to Allen proved to be a good thing since it bought him a couple of seconds that were well needed in terms of executing the whole thing.

He made it into the corridor, down the lane and around the corner, stuffing the Innocence fragment into his bag and putting his glove back on in order to distinguish all light emitting from him as he had been forced to sacrifice the flashlight in order to avoid capture. Although, judging from the sharp crack followed by a loud string of curses that had been heard shortly after he did this, Allen could pretty safely assume that he had managed to inflict at least some sort of damage on his opponent, and maybe even managed to damage the night vision goggles if he was really lucky. Not having much time to reflect on it though, Allen continued his mad scramble down the corridors, taking turns more on intuition rather than memory and after a while he had somehow made it into what seemed to be a dead end. He silently cursed his predicament for a few moments, all while listening for the steps of his pursuer. Then suddenly, feeling watched, he looked up.

The dark shadow person from before stood on a higher level of the catacomb, staring down at him through a hole in the ceiling to the level Allen himself was currently at, although Allen himself wasn't really seeing it with his eyes due to the reigning light conditions but rather feeling it due to the energies radiating from it.

Allen stared upwards, catching sight of the shadow person's vaguely glowing orbs for eyes in the darkness, and he considered his options, which basically consisted of him either staying right where he was while waiting for Kanda to catch up to him or for him to make an attempt to climb the wall in front of him to make it up to the level where the Shadow was at. _Huh… tough choice._

Allen decidedly went for the latter alternative, making sure his backpack was securely on his back while gauging the wall in front of him, hands wandering over it in search of necessary gripping points. Finally finding some, he tested his luck, managing to get about halfway up the wall before the sound of running footsteps finally caught up to him and he nearly lost his grip due to his focus being so swiftly shattered. Besides, from what he could tell there in the pitch blackness the places he was gripping onto in order not to fall were fairly brittle, meaning that they were possible – if not very likely – to start crumbling under pressure at any time. _Shit…_

Allen tried to keep very still on his position there hanging on the wall – trying not to make any sounds to bring attention to himself while he silently prayed to a whole load of different gods – even if he was well aware of the fact that if these gods actually did exist, they had probably turned their backs on him and were probably laughing their asses of while watching him in all his misery from some faraway place.

The running footsteps grew nearer and soon enough a column of light, very likely emerging from a turned on flashlight – probably the one he'd sacrificed in order to make his getaway, meaning that he had likely managed to damage Kanda's night vision goggles – landed on the wall just below him. Allen felt his breathing hitch. Gritting his teeth, he looked upwards again, taking note of the fact that the shadow person had seemingly disappeared on him again.

The spot of light on the wall grew larger as the steps approached. Kanda Yu emerged in his line of vision and it was mere moments before said teen spotted him as well, directing the flashlight straight at him. Suddenly nearly blinded by the light, Allen nearly missed the rather triumphant smirk which split across the other's face for a moment and seeing that Allen instinctively knew that he was in for it in case Kanda ever got a hold of him. It was either that smirk that told him that or the slight head injury the other was sporting, but it was mostly the eyes that shone pretty clear even in the darkness, promising him pain and suffering beyond his wildest imagination and as such, Allen really didn't want to get caught if he could somehow avoid it.

He turned his eyes upwards again, desperate for a way out as Kanda advanced below, reaching upwards and nearly catching hold of one of his ankles. Spotting another gripping point, Allen decided to gamble and reached for it, gaining a grip and repositioning himself so that he was once again out of reach, hearing the other let out a somewhat disappointed growl. But Allen knew that he wouldn't be safe for long, since he was all too well aware of the fact that Kanda was perfectly capable of climbing walls (and of jump between rooftops, but that was beside the point). _Only… a little… further…_

The edge he needed to climb over was less than a meter away and he needed to get over there fast in order to retain somewhat of a head start before his pursuer began climbing. He reached out, muscles trembling from the strain, and finally felt himself grasp the edge, although at the same time he felt just how brittle it was. He still decided to risk it and grasped the edge with his other hand as well, using what little strength which remained in his legs to push himself upwards, trying to heave himself over the edge. He almost managed to do it, but then suddenly he felt how he was losing his footing. A hand grasped firmly onto his ankle from below, obviously intending on pulling him further downwards and Allen felt like he wanted to scream out in sheer frustration. _Let go. Let go. Let go. __**Let me go!**_

A surge of power ran through him and the fingers curled around his ankle suddenly let go, accompanied by a surprised yelp from their owner, but Allen barely noticed this as he was suddenly overcome by this weird sense of vertigo and felt like he was going to black out at any minute. He was confused, unable to understand what had just occurred as he felt the darkness rushing forward.

Another hand, one coming from above, grabbed hold of his wrist and hauled him upwards in a surprising display of strength, although Allen only really paid any attention to it when he was laid down onto his side on the stone floor. His eyes snapped open although it took a couple of seconds before his vision cleared enough to register his surroundings and for his mind to register the shadowy figure hovering over him. Amber eyes peered down at him in the darkness, hiding both a certain deal of concern as well as a deal amount of amusement. "What the fuck took you so long, Tyki?" Allen whispered, a hint of annoyance seeping into his otherwise rather breathless voice.

The only reply he got was a snicker in the darkness before blacking out fully.

**- o0o -**

Kanda swore profusely when he finally made it over the ledge, only to confirm something he already expected, that Allen Walker was gone along with whatever had been there to pull him up. Due to lack of visual observation from his side, he had been forced to rely entirely on what had been caught by his other senses and it was what he'd gotten from that which had put him on edge. For just a few moments he had sensed a demonic presence, rather similar to one he had sensed back in that haunted mansion they had trespassed into.

Back when he had trained back in Japan, he had honed his skill to sense other people's _ki_, their life-force or energy signature, meaning that if he just put his other impressions aside and just sensed other people, he was usually able to tell a lot about them merely on how their presence felt to him.

When Allen Walker had first been registered by his senses, Kanda had been surprised by how unnaturally pure he had seemed at the first glance; Allen did possess a certain level of darkness just like any other human, but when he had actually stayed and looked for a while when he had spotted him back in that chamber, he had actually sensed how much duller he appeared compared to before.

Although Kanda obviously would never admit it to anyone, it could be seen as a fact that Allen's presence was like a beacon, like some sort of light which seemed to draw spirits into said teen's immediate vicinity like moths to a flame. Allen himself probably wasn't aware of this and Kanda hadn't even given it much thought earlier, having dismissed it as a figment of his imagination until he finally realized down there in that chamber that the "light" he'd experienced earlier had dulled a great deal since the last time he'd seen it and at the same time he'd sensed something dark – like a shadow – lurking beneath. It wasn't the same feeling as people tended to give out when they were possessed, but a certain hint of something influencing him had been present at the time, although he had ignored it in favor of the things which seemed just a bit more close at hand, like somehow subduing the teen – hopefully without being forced to knock him out so that he wouldn't have to drag him all the way back up to the surface – and also on obtaining the Innocence.

Admittedly, he had failed on both accounts, but not only due to his own incompetence, but rather due to misfortunate circumstances that were beyond his control – like somehow getting nailed in the head with a thrown flashlight – and his target hadn't gotten away due to his incompetence either (admittedly, he could've been a bit faster in grabbing him, but still).

Then again there was that particular instance where Kanda had been pretty sure he had secured a pretty firm grip around the other's ankle, only to suddenly experience some sort of odd surge of power, like an electric shock or something, which had caused his fingers to go numb and loosen their grip and it had been shortly after that when he'd sensed something from above and he also could've sworn that he'd heard a snicker and seen a glowing pair of eyes up there in the darkness, only to be met with seeming emptiness when he directed his flashlight there.

Still, having made it up the ledge only to find that his prey had escaped and all, Kanda felt like the Order, and his worthless sidekicks, could wait for him a while yet. And with that particular thought and reasoning, he finally discarded the femur he had been swinging around and pulled out his _wakizashi_, fully intent on kicking some spirit ass now that he was able to sense them around again.

**- o0o -**

"I feel like crap…" Allen muttered from his sprawled out position in the backseat of a car, staring up at a gray car ceiling.

"Your opinion has been duly noted," Tyki informed him, sending a short glance back at him through the rearview mirror before once again returning his attention to the road. "Still, I can't give you any more painkillers at the moment, so shush."

Allen titled his head slightly to get a better view of the outside from his lying position. The sky outside was overcast with gray clouds and the car windows were littered with raindrops. It was a rather depressing view befitting his reigning mood, but he still turned his attention elsewhere. With a bit of effort, he moved the heavy coat which had been laid on top of him at some point, revealing his left arm, which had over the latest couple of hours gone from blood-red to black, as if it had been burned to coal or been frozen or something. Tentatively, he tried moving his fingers and was awarded with a whole lot of pain, feeling rather like he had somehow managed to shatter every single bone in his arm although he evidently hadn't, but then again, it wasn't every day that his arm started turning black and stuff, which it had not very long after he had left that godforsaken catacomb. "I think that Innocence or whatever that I found down there screwed up my system somehow," he said. "Is such a thing even fucking possible?"

"Maybe," was Tyki's noncommittal reply as he continued driving down the road for a while before one of his hands left the steering wheel in favor of fiddling with the car radio, putting it on and turning up the volume a bit to the sound of some sort of news broadcast. After listening for a while, he let out a rather surprised sound before once again snickering.

Allen quirked an eyebrow at this. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing much," Tyki insisted, still snickering. "It was just on the news that three… adolescents… have apparently been caught desecrating the catacombs by the tunnel police and it's caused quite an uproar…"

Allen snorted in clear amusement. Oddly enough, he felt a lot better now that he knew of the misfortune which had befallen the people he presumed to be Black Order agents. Hopefully, this would cause some semi-international incident which would disgrace the Order to the degree that it also lost its fairly high position in society in certain countries. One thing was fairly certain though, and that was if these three so called adolescents were pinned down as members of the Black Order it was likely that the Order wouldn't be very welcome in France from then onward. _Heh… after all the misery I went through down there courtesy of them, I honestly do believe that they deserved at least that much…_

Another surge of pain ran through him, and he curled up into a fetal position. _I really really really hate this job…_ _But I shouldn't complain, should I? Tyki did steal this car for my sake after all…_

He sighed, closing his eyes and cradling his arm as he finally felt the painkillers starting to take effect. Something was wrong with him, and although he didn't know exactly what it was, he had this distinct feeling that he would find it out soon enough.

Sensing a vague shift in his surroundings, he opened his eyes, coming face to face with a masked white apparition which seemed to be hovering over him. Startled, he barely refrained from making a sound as he instead looked hesitantly in Tyki's direction, noticing that the man was watching him in the rearview mirror again with a somewhat concerned expression on his face. "Are you okay, Allen?" Tyki asked, frowning lightly. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Allen stared at him for a couple of moments, speechless, before turning his eyes back to the apparition, which was now hovering a bit closer to the car's ceiling. He let out a shuddering breath before answering. "It's nothing," he finally said, deadpan. "All these pills are just making me hallucinate and stuff…"

"Hoh?" Tyki resounded, sounding rather intrigued. "What sort of hallucinations? Pink elephants and stuff?"

Allen surveyed the thing on the ceiling for a while. "A clown, maybe?" he said, sounding thoughtful. "Nah, more like a creepy-looking mask-wearing… cloak?"

Tyki raised an eyebrow. "You're hallucinating about a mask-wearing cloak? Just the cloak? No person in it?" he asked, and at Allen's negative response he frowned. "Maybe I should take you to the hospital after all…"

"In a stolen car?"

"… Nah, let's not."

**- o0o -**


	6. Mana

**- o0o -**

**- Mana -**

**- o0o -**

His head was pounding, and everything was spinning. Sighing deeply, he leaned his head back onto the armrest of the sofa he laid on, closing his eyes. His body felt strange, light yet heavy at the same time. Cold, yet still burning. "This sucks," he murmured, laying an elbow across his eyes.

**- o0o -**

Not even in his dreams was he left alone; he closed his eyes and it was still there – the masked figure – the bodiless apparition wearing a white cloak. It was familiar to him somehow and dreadfully so; it brought back memories of burning buildings, darkness and intense, burning white pain.

His dreamscape was a twisted one, twisted yet as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

He stood on a small stone platform in the middle of a flooded cemetery, surrounded by twisted leafless trees which reached up towards the crescent hanging low in the sky. Below where he stood was water, a barely disturbed blank surface where the reflected blue sky bled into ruins in a near crimson landscape – a ruined world beneath a black crescent moon, reflected in the water.

The grinning shadowy figure lurking down there beckoned him closer and without even reflecting much on it, he leant forward, an action which was mirrored by a shadow. Its grin widened and its mouth moved slightly and he leant closer, instinctively trying to hear what it was saying. A hand shot out, shattering the calm surface as it latched onto his wrist. He startled, gasping as an ice-cold sensation washed over him and just then the shadow started to pull him downwards towards the water with a surprising amount of strength. He did try to resist it; he did try to pull his hand back, but the grip was relentless. Then, suddenly, white threads – reminiscent of spider webs – shot out, wrapping themselves around his ribcage and limbs, even around his throat. Only then, he truly felt panic surge through him like an electrical current.

Something fell onto his face, obstructing his view. He could feel his breathing picking up as he struggled against the constraints. _Let go, let go, let go, __**LET ME GO.**_

His eyes snapped wide open, staring at the ceiling, his chest heaving as he tried to get his breathing under control. Tyki's face came into view, his amber eyes looking slightly concerned as they peered down at him. "You okay?"

Allen Walker reached out, his hand touching a surprised Tyki's face, his fingers lingering on his cheek. "I'm so mentally fucked up," Allen commented, his voice hoarse and barely more than a whisper.

Tyki blinked, looking vaguely surprised for a moment. Then he smirked. "Well, welcome to the family then," he said with a slight chuckle.

**- o0o -**

He buttoned his shirt with a great deal of concentration, trying to take his mind off of the shadow as it leaned closer, curiously almost. "Neah," Allen breathed out, turning his head and leveling the shadow with a blank look. "Lay off."

He wasn't completely sure where he got the name from, but the shadow still reacted to it, shrinking back slightly for a moment before once again hovering nearly unbearably close to him. Allen raised his hand as if to try to swat it away or something, a lazy gesture which proved to be surprisingly efficient as the shadow immediately shrunk back before finally backing off and disappearing into a nearby portrait on the wall. Quite surprised with the whole ordeal, Allen could do little else but stare at the portrait, which was of a black-haired young man who had an uncanny resemblance to a slightly younger Tyki Mikk. There was something about it, and Allen found himself wondering why he had not noticed it hanging there before.

After having finished buttoning up his shirt, he got up and walked up to the portrait, eyeing it with keen eyes. His head felt much clearer then compared to earlier, as if he had broken free of something, and when he stood there staring at the portrait he suddenly felt like reaching out to it, to touch it, but he pulled back, feeling wary all of a sudden.

A pair of heavy gloved hands landed on his shoulders and he promptly froze, his eyes still directed towards the portrait, but this time he did not stare at the picture itself but rather at the reflection of the room in the protective sheet of glass which covered it.

A large shadow wearing a top hat stood behind him, round orb-like eyes gleaming with seeming insanity along with an insanely wise grin. Strangely calm, Allen found himself tilting his head backwards, getting an upside-down view of the person in question. The kindly smiling face of the Millennium Earl looked down upon him, but Allen noted that the smile did not completely reach the other's eyes.

The hands on his shoulders tightened their grip. Allen didn't show any outer reaction, simply waiting for the Earl to make the first move. To his great surprise and almost shock, he was then turned around and pulled into a hug, tight and restricting. He immediately stiffened, unused to such unexpected physical contact, before he found that his body was starting to relax into the embrace. A breath ghosted against his ear when the Earl finally spoke. "Welcome back, Fourteenth."

It was amazing how a single word was able to trigger so much, flooding his mind with memories and sensations that were not quite his own but still his in the sense that they could belong to no other. A second set of memories, memories that were his yet belonged to someone else – confusing, yet seen with such certainty, not to mention clarity.

His eyes opened, and the world had changed.

**- o0o -**

There were plenty of times when Kanda sorely regretted having come to England in the first place. This was one of those times.

First of all, they had been caught 'desecrating' the catacombs. It was failure of the highest degree, especially since their target had gotten away and they hadn't, even though they had evidently had superior equipment and had evidently outnumbered him.

Second of all, them having been caught had led to them having been forced to endure a thorough chewing out courtesy of Komui, even though the man himself was just as guilty as them as he had been the fucker who'd basically ordered the thing while he himself went off to spend quality time with Lenalee and so on and so forth.

Third of all, as punishment of having failed the mission and having been caught, they had been thrown back into school with the additional task of cleaning up Komui's severely neglected paperwork.

And, with Lavi and Daisya having oh-so-mysteriously disappeared – aka ditched their duties – Kanda found himself alone in cleaning up the mess all on his own. He had little intent of doing so however, intending only to do 'his' share of work and leave the rest. Besides, he did prefer working alone without the idiots around, so there he sat, sifting through paperwork and sorting it into piles.

He reached for another paper, one which lay haphazardly on the floor right next to the desk. He picked it up and flipped it over to glance at it and promptly froze, his eyes resting on the profile of none other than Allen Walker – aka the main cause of most of his miseries as of late – and even though he was already aware of most of the things that could be read on his file he glanced at it anyway, looking mostly at the photographs which had been added to the collection since the last time he had checked it.

The pictures unnerved him for some reason, but he put them aside once a sudden hunch told him to search the drawers to Komui's desk, and after a few seconds of fiddling with a hairpin he had effectively and efficiently picked the lock to the one at the very bottom, pulling it out to reveal a thick envelope addressed to Komui. Without feeling ashamed in the least, Kanda swiftly liberated the envelope from the drawer after having had a look around and having established that he was alone.

The first thing he pulled out of the envelope was a note onto which someone had scribbled great number of mysterious symbols – some sort of code, obviously – but none that he recognized.

Several photos fell out of the envelope, falling to the floor in a disorderly fashion as he inwardly cursed and went to pick them up. He then froze, his hand still reaching for them, when he laid eyes on one of photos. It was a seemingly old photograph, depicting a young man with messy raven hair sitting before a white piano, and it carried an eerie resemblance not only of Allen Walker but also of that creepy neighbor of his.

As if on cue, the door to Komui's office burst open. Kanda instinctively ducked behind the desk, using his keen senses to try and figure out exactly who had entered while at the same time keeping extremely still. The person who had entered stood motionless for a few moments before starting to move again, walking up towards Komui's desk and steadily closing in on his improvised hiding place. He vaguely noted that said person appeared to be walking with a slight limp in their step.

A bunch of papers were slammed down onto the desk and he could hear the person turning around, walking towards the exit before eventually stopping maybe a meter away from the door. Kanda felt a sudden gust of wind blow past him, even though all the windows in the room were closed to his knowledge, and looking down he saw that the photo he had been holding onto previously was currently hovering in the air before him. Then – as if responding to a given command – it darted off in direction of the door and was soon followed by all other photos which had been in the envelope.

Peering over the edge of the desk, Kanda's eyes grew wide at a sight which was so truly unexpected that he for a second asked himself if he had fallen asleep somewhere and wandered into a nightmare.

Alma Karma turned his head slightly to the side, sending him a short look before swiftly exiting the office and slamming the door shut behind him all while Kanda himself stood frozen.

A dark presence lingered in his wake.

**- o0o -**

"_Uncle Mana!"_

_The familiar figure turned around, as always with a warm smile on his face. He was kind, far too kind to be real. He was precious, far too precious to be._

"_Uncle Mana!"_

_The warm feeling was changed into one of utter dread as a searing pain ran through him. Blood was oozing from the left part of his face, but he wasn't screaming because of the pain. He reached out to the person who had turned around, facing away from him, and his silver-gray eyes grew desperate._

"_Don't go!"_

**- o0o -**

"_That's a lie,"_ the shadow said, leaning over him where he lay on the bed in a fetal position. _"It wasn't like that, Allen."_

Rolling onto his other side, facing away from the shadow, Allen curled up again and put his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to drown out the voice that rang so clear to him. "I don't care," he whispered, screwing his eyes shut as his head continued to pound.

In his feverish and otherwise disoriented state, Allen seriously wanted to be left alone; his body was aching and his mind was still reeling with the latest revelations he had gotten from the memories – memories not his own – as they had seeped into him and made the presence of the shadow – Neah – almost unbearable. He kept his eyes shut, willing himself somewhere else; he tried to keep his mental image – the one of Mana smiling warmly at him – but before long other images started seeping in, pushing the image he wanted away and putting things he would rather forget – things that he had willfully forgotten – in its place.

**- o0o -**

_The familiar figure turned around, his face twisted in an odd kind of grimace that was barely reminiscent of a smile. Twisted, ugly, deranged and as mad as a hatter._

_He didn't scream, not even as the cutting edge of the large kitchen knife neared him. He couldn't. His begging had gone to deaf ears and remained unheard and any further pleas refused to form. He was frozen, frozen in terror, as he saw his guardian approach. _

_**This isn't Mana**__, he told himself. __**This isn't Mana. This isn't Mana. This isn't Mana.**_

_Mana was warm, kind and considerate. Mana played with him and fooled around like no other adult would. Mana dressed up as a clown to cheer him up and was the best uncle in the world, and…_

_And…_

_And…_

_Dread._

_Pain._

_Blood._

_Screams._

_Desperation._

**- o0o -**

His eyes opened and he found that he was elsewhere, in the backseat of a car next to a man he dreaded and hated more than anyone. Cigarette smoke filled his nostrils and he coughed, covering his mouth. He felt sick – like he was going to throw up – but he said nothing, keeping his silence. He was still in his suit and it felt as though his own tie was tied too tightly around his neck, slowly strangling him like a hangman's noose.

Mana's funeral.

Other than the priest and the caretakers who had been called in to carry the coffin, only Allen and that man had been present. Allen had never met the man face to face before that. Neither had he heard the many rumors that circulated around the man, nor was he aware of the reputation the man had because of them, yet he instinctively knew that he would at some point in time label the man one of his greatest enemies.

The smoke. It was everywhere. It was suffocating him.

Allen let his head lean against the window, closing his eyes and willing himself elsewhere.

**- o0o -**

_Dread. Pain. Blood._

_Screams. Desperation. Fire._

_Blood. Smoke. Fire._

_Heat. Panic. Pain._

_Laughter. Madness. Flame._

_Smoke. Shadow. Blackness._

**- o0o -**

"You are the Devil's child, Allen."

He looked up, coming face to face with one of the nuns at the orphanage. There was no malice in her eyes and that surprised him. Still, the overwhelming pity that he saw in its stead made him feel slightly ill. He was abnormal. A freak. The child of a demon.

**- o0o -**

"No," the former matron – a grey lady whose eyes were kind even in death – informed him where she sat at his bedside, a ghostly figure seen by no one but him. "You have a gift, Allen, an absolutely wonderful gift. God chose you to find those restless souls and send them toward the light. You must never forget that."

But he did forget, both about the words and about her.

**- o0o -**

He had already stopped hoping for a real family when Mana came around. Having been adopted and sent back more times than he would actually bother counting, Allen was in no hurry to unpack his things; he would go back there anyways soon enough, to the orphanage, so he might as well keep his things packed so that he would be able to make a swift departure if needed. Most families kept him only for a few days while others lasted a bit longer. Three weeks had been his longstanding record, but with Mana it was swiftly broken.

Most people would have returned him after maybe a week, following all the mysterious incidents that took place whenever he was around; keys and money that went missing, toys and decorations that fell to the floor and scattered into many, many pieces. The ones who actually made it through the first step almost always cracked during the second when they started seeing things. Those who did not mostly did when they started hearing things too, voices.

Mana was not like most people. Voices, apparitions and missing or broken things bothered him very little; in fact, it seemed as though they amused him quite a bit. Unlike the others, who had many times blamed Allen when their things went missing, Mana had joked with him about his poor memory and absentmindedness.

Mana never saw anything, but he never denied that Allen did. He did hear the voices on the other hand; that much Allen knew for certain.

A man in the dark – in the dead of night – talking to himself.

Allen never learned what the voices whispered into his ears.

**- o0o -**

Mana was like the sun to him, yet he was too young at the time to realize what was going on before it was already too late. He did not know what to do when Mana suddenly started lashing out at him, when he suddenly started staying up all night playing that piano, the one which had apparently belonged to Mana's late brother. He did not know what to do when Mana started eating less and less and when he appeared to age very quickly. Neither did he know what do about the man's sudden and inexplicable mood swings, where he in one moment was the kind man Allen had been adopted by and in another was a child himself or a bitter old man. Sometimes, it was as though his voice changed, but it was always the eyes that Allen noticed and that filled him with a cold sense of dread. When Mana was like that, Allen made a point not to get near. He had seen others who had experienced similar episodes during his time at the orphanage, mostly other children, but at times also adults and it was the latter that he had learnt to fear.

At that point in time he knew nothing of possession, spiritual or otherwise, because no one had truly explained it to him. Neither did he know of the barrier between the worlds, that of the living and that of the dead. After all, to him the only real difference lay in what others saw and what they did not, like with the old matron; the nuns said she was dead and so did the other children, but Allen kept seeing her and talking to her even after she had passed away, because to him she was as real as anything else, just not physical.

It had been soon after that, soon after the old matron's passing, that it had finally occurred to him that the scenery he saw and the world as he knew it was just a bit different from that of his fellow orphans, the other children and the other adults in his immediate surroundings.

At first, he had attempted to make some sort of sense of it and not knowing any better he had asked the priest in the church nearby, only to have the ageing man laugh and tell him that there was no such thing as ghosts or a life after death; according to him one either rose to Heaven or went downwards. Unfortunately for Allen, most of the nuns at the orphanage did not find anything remotely amusing about his questions. In fact, it had been quite the opposite, especially when he had let it slip that he kept seeing the old matron walk through the halls at night.

It was mostly overlooked though – to Allen's great relief – as it could be attributed to a child's wild imagination to see such things in the dark. It had been discouraged, frowned upon, but it had not been anything deemed worthy as an excuse to shun him. That came later.

**- o0o -**

"_Did you hear?"_

"_-… was run over three days ago, yet Allen claimed to have talked with him just yesterday."_

"_Creepy."_

**- o0o -**

"_You are the Devil's child," one of the children – whose name he could not recall – flung at him along with a single rock that was soon accompanied by others. "You shouldn't have been in this world to begin with."_

"_Shouldn't have been born!"_

"_Devil's child! Devil's child!"_

"_Go back to where you came from!"_

"_Devil's child, Devil's child, Devil's child!"_

**- o0o -**

Had he been a normal child, he would have cried. Had he been a normal child, he would have cried and hid in a dark corner somewhere, feeling miserable. Being anything but normal though, Allen did the exact opposite; instead of fear and sadness, there was anger and he lashed out instead of hiding. That had been his second mistake.

**- o0o -**

_Angry voices._

_Shouting._

_Pleading._

_Doors slamming._

_More shouting._

"_We can't go on with this!"_

"_He's hurting the other children!"_

"_He's out of control!"_

_Pleading again._

"_He is just defending himself! The other children are mean to him! Do something about them and he'll-…"_

_Shouting._

"_I told him to stop whatever he's doing to scare the others," a new voice cut in, sounding positively frigid. "A crucifix at the opposite end of the room flew and hit me in the face."_

_Tense silence._

"_Did he throw it?" someone asked._

"_No," the frigid voice replied. "It FLEW and hit me in the face."_

_Silence._

_Then, the shouting began anew._

"_It's a demon!" someone shouted. "He's obviously possessed!"_

"_Call in an exorcist!" someone else agreed. "This cannot go on!"_

_Within the dark cramped closet he had been locked into, Allen covered his ears with his hands while tears seeped silently out of his eyes as he stared out into the darkness. "It's too much," he whispered, pressing his hands harder against his skull in an attempt to drown out the sounds that kept leaking in all the same. "I can't take it anymore…"_

"_Hang in there, Allen dear," the old matron said as she faded into existence next to him in the dark, embracing him and sending cold chills throughout his body. "You're a strong child; you'll make it through…"_

_The key turned in the lock and Allen looked up towards the door, his eyes wide with dread._

"_You'll make it through," the old matron echoed before once again fading out of existence, just as the door was torn open with a sudden amount of force, revealing a pair of cold eyes staring down at him._

"_There you are, you little rat."_

**- o0o -**

There were times in his life when he actually found himself wondering if he would not actually be better off dead, such as during the utterly terrifying experiences that followed that other priest's arrival to the orphanage. At times, he thought it would never end, the reoccurring cycle of strange rituals that were supposedly done in order to save his immortal soul. Not that the rituals or exorcisms actually did anything else than making him wet from an excessive amount of holy water and adding to the bruises on limbs – located mostly his arms and shoulders – from the heavy-handed grips of numerous adults as they pressed him down on the floor or into a chair, intent on preventing the demon from escaping and harming them.

Fear, anger, frustration, anguish; it all melted together.

Finally, he managed to tear himself free and lashed out in anger, intent on clawing the priest's face, wanting to scratch his eyes out and return the pain he had been given a hundred times over, but he could not reach him, pulled back by numerous adults all while he snarled in anger and pain, much like a wild animal as the priest continued with the exorcism. _This is enough, right? _

He cried out, fighting against the restraints. _Can I go now, to the other side?_

His eyes – wide open and tearing up from the pain and the frustration – registered something floating above him, up by the ceiling. A white glowing mass. Was it perhaps the God he had never really believed in who had come to oversee his agony? To relish in it? _It doesn't matter._

Allen tore free yet again, reaching up towards the light. _Heaven or Hell, it doesn't matter which!_ He mentally screamed at it._ Just hurry up and take me away already!_

The white mass took on the shape of a person cloaked in glowing light who stared down at him through a dark domino mask. A hand was held out towards him, and he desperately struggled to reach it, even as arms latched onto him, pulling him backwards, away from it. _No._

He could not reach it. He would not reach it. _No._

The arms pulled him further back, further away from that beautiful light. _No._

The illuminated figure up by the ceiling slowly begun fading and he felt new tears, of frustration he had never known before, well up in his eyes. _Don't leave me behind. Don't leave…_

Darkness overcame him and he never felt himself hit the floor soon afterwards as his captors had let go of him rather abruptly to stare at the priest who in turn covered his mouth as a bout of coughs overcame him, rocking his middle-aged body. Neither did he see the blood that the priest soon coughed up into his hands, nor the looks of terrors sent his way where he lay, seemingly dead to the world but perhaps not as dead as he himself would have wanted.

**- o0o -**

He remembered very little of the time that passed immediately after that; all was in a daze due to his own emotional and bodily exhaustion along with the drugs he could vaguely taste in his food. Soon, he stopped eating altogether, opting for a hunger strike. It did not go on for long though; only a day or so after he had made his decision, a man stepped into the room where he had been almost completely isolated for the latest few weeks.

Mana Walker – as the man would later introduce himself as – did not look like much to the world, but to Allen he was oddly radiant, much like a beacon of light that had found its way into his world of darkness. A kind smile was enough to win him over and the hand that was held out for him to take was grasped by shaking hands. "Let's go home, Allen."

Soft words shattered an invisible barrier within him, allowing dampened emotions to overflow. His cheeks were wet but he was smiling all the same, wiping them away with his sleeve. He was happier than ever before when Mana took his hand and led him out of the room, down the stairs and out the door, to the street and to the car that was waiting for them, waiting to take them away.

Allen halted briefly in his steps, turning around to look at the orphanage one last time. Then he looked up at Mana again, smiled, and turned his eyes forward. _I'm free._

**- o0o -**

Sardonic laughter rose from his still sore throat where he still lay on the bed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Out of one cage and into another; how little he had known about the world back then. All brightness faded eventually and no happiness lasted forever. Happily ever after existed only in fairytales and if anything, his life belonged to an entirely different genre.

**- o0o -**

_**This isn't Mana.**__**This isn't Mana. This isn't Mana. This isn't Mana.**_

_His heartbeat quickened until his heart itself felt like it was pounding against his ribs, trying to get out, trying to get out of there, even though he already instinctively knew that he was not going anywhere; that he could not go anywhere._

"_This is enough, right?" he said, his voice barely a whisper as he looked up at Mana – who was not really Mana – as the man brought the knife closer to his face. "You'll set me free after this is over, right, Mana?"_

_Mana – who was not really Mana – smiled kindly at him, knife still in hand._

"_That's right, Allen."_

**- o0o -**

_As the knife was brought down upon him, shadows rose from the floor from the opened portal beneath him, wrapping around him like tendrils of darkness._

_He was falling, but he was not moving._

_There was someone behind him, holding him up._

_Allen could not see who it was, but Mana's expression was that of shock, yet still that of immense joy. Frankly, it terrified him._

_Then, everything went blank for a while and the next thing he knew, he was on his back on the floor, screaming as the edge of the knife cut into his face._

"_I curse you, Allen!" Mana – who was not really Mana – shouted as he brought the knife down again, cutting deeper. "I curse you!"_

**- o0o -**

_He was not himself anymore._

_He was there in person, yet his mind was not present to bear witness._

_Yet somehow, strangely enough, he saw._

_The pool of crimson liquid grew quickly as more and more blood poured from the severed throat of the man on the floor, and the blood sizzled slightly when it came into contact with the rapidly spreading flames of a lit candle that had been tipped over during the previous commotion._

_Smoke. _

_It was suffocating him._

**- o0o -**

"_Uncle Mana!"_

_The familiar figure turned around, as always with a warm smile on his face. He was kind, far too kind to be real. He was precious, far too precious to be._

"_Don't go!"_

**- o0o -**

Cool hands were on his face and his eyes snapped open. Tyki's face met him once his vision had cleared up a bit and he found himself smiling, weakly. "You're late," he said, reaching up to touch him as if to ascertain that he was really there and not just another figment of his imagination. "Thanks to you, I remembered something unpleasant."

"Indeed," Tyki smirked, pulling his hands away and moving off the bed. "Should I order a pizza to make it up to you?"

Allen withdrew his hand and sat up slowly, clutching his head. "Make that two," he muttered, massaging his temples. "Throw in a couple of aspirin with that and I'll love you forever."

Tyki's smirk broadened and he leaned forward, using a hand to brush a pair of tousled white bangs away before planting a kiss onto the other's forehead. Then, he withdrew, chuckling as he took the opportunity to mess up Allen's hair some more. "As if you don't love me enough already."

Allen found himself staring at Tyki's back as he left the room to fetch his cell phone. Then he let himself fall back onto the bed again, staring up at the ceiling with a blank look on his face. _More than I could ever love myself, Tyki. More than I could ever love myself._

**- o0o -**


	7. The Summoning

_A random update has appeared, and apparently, more will follow within the immediate future, seeing that the plot turned up rather unexpectedly and decided to stay around for a while._

_Now, is it any good? – I can make no promises, so decide for yourselves._

_Cheers._

**- o0o -**

**- The Summoning -**

**- o0o -**

"Come on, Idiot."

Lavi looked up from the book in his hands, staring at the pale visage of his colleague with something akin to surprise. "What's going on, Yu?"

The other's eyes darted off to the side, narrowing slightly, showing no other indication at having heard the intentional use of the hated given name. In response, Lavi's own visible eye narrowed slightly.

Judging from experience, he knew that it was never a good sign when Kanda had that particular look on his face, not to mention that kind of color. After all, anything which had been able to make such a stoic guy's face ashen ought to be positively gut-wrenching by normal people's standards. "What's up?" he quipped, trying to get the other to lighten up. "Seen a ghost or anything lately?"

Ah, there it was, the sharp look he had been waiting for – the glare he normally got whenever he opened his mouth. Still, the timing was a bit off, wasn't it?

"No, seriously," Lavi went on, slamming his book shut and slipping it into his satchel. "What's up?"

Kanda snorted, turning. "We've been summoned."

Lavi blinked in surprise. "We've been what now?"

**- o0o -**

"_You are the Devil's child."_

_"You shouldn't have been in this world to begin with."_

**- o0o -**

_A knife, being brought down upon him, as sounds of a distant childhood echoed in his ears._

_The end of his wretched existence; he was finally seeing it._

**- o0o -**

"_You shouldn't have been born in the first place!"_

**- o0o -**

_His beloved guardian, jovial features twisted and ugly, deranged eyes shining in the dimly lit room._

_A man possessed and obsessed._

_A man he loved like a father – a man he loved like no other._

_A man he was willing to die for – a man he was willing to give his own life for._

**- o0o -**

"_Go back to whence you came, you demon!"_

**- o0o -**

He tossed and turned restlessly, his mind plagued by dreams woven from memories of his past, mixed in with flashes of a past not his own. Silver-grey eyes snapped open for the umpteenth time that night, staring emptily at the dark ceiling. He was awake and aware, but the dream lingered, voices echoing in his ears. Screams.

_"You are the Devil's child, Allen."_

His breathing hitched slightly, and he rolled over onto his side, curling up into a fetal position.

_"…The Devil's child, Allen."_

Whispers cut through silence as the shadowy figure approached once more, leaning closer to watch him with its eerily glowing eyes all while he curled up further, trying to stop himself from shivering as the temperature began to drop. It reached out, presumably to touch him, and he flinched, his action far more instinctive than the result of any conscious decision. "You cannot touch me," he whispered, remaining in his curled up position. "You cannot hurt me…"

He forced his eyes shut, willing the shadow to go away. "You have no power over me…"

It was wishful thinking; it was him, lying to himself.

There was a raspy voice in the darkness, resounding in his mind as well as in his ears. _"Allen…"_

He shivered, bringing his hands up to his ears, trying to block it out even though he knew it was a useless endeavor as the black mass, having previously withdrawn, leaned closer once more. The temperature dropped even further, and cracking his eyes open slightly, he could see that his own breath hung in the air like a white cloud as if he had been lying outdoors on a cold winter's day. He screwed his eyes back shut. A part of him wanted to lash out – to defend himself – but his limbs felt heavy, as though all energy had been drained from them. _"Allen…"_

He wanted it to go away; he wanted it to leave and never come back, taking all the bad memories with it. He didn't need them; neither the shadow itself nor the memories. They were highly redundant, relics of a past which could never be revived. They lurked in his subconscious, preying upon him in his weakened state, when he was unable to fend them off.

**- o0o -**

_The knife again, glinting in the light of a clear flame, held in the hand of his beloved guardian, ready to be brought upon him._

_He screwed his eyes firmly shut, wishing it would all be over._

_He had since long stopped begging, having resigned to the fate which awaited him._

_Pleading had been useless, as the madman had already made his decision – he had already chosen, and the one he had chosen was not Allen._

_At first, terror had paralyzed him._

_Then, resignation had taken its place._

_It seemed as though his time was up._

_It was time to move on, finally, but he felt no actual joy in leaving his earthly existence behind._

_He wasn't exactly sad either, not to his own knowledge, but why? Why did his eyes start tearing up? Why?_

_Why did life – however miserable it might've been – have to seem so tempting when it was soon going to be out of his reach?_

_Why?_

_It wasn't as though the world had anything left to keep him tied to it._

_Mana – his guardian and dear friend – had already been taken from him, having been switched out for another._

_It wasn't as though he was actually going to leave anyone behind or anything._

_Still, it was all too much…_

_He didn't want to die; he really…_

_It was enough. He would be set free. It was enough. It really…_

_His beloved guardian, smiling kindly, knife in hand._

_Shadows._

**- o0o -**

His eyes snapped back open, and before he realized what he was doing, he had raised his left hand and swatted the offending shadowy hand which had been on its way to touch his shoulder. Or rather, he attempted to do so, but his hand was stopped midair, captured in a shadowy grip.

An unbelievable wave of coldness washed over him, disorienting him momentarily. He tried freeing himself, but the grip only tightened, preventing him from escaping. His eyes were wide, and they grew even wider as the eerie eyes bored into his. An invisible force pushed him back down onto the bed, keeping him there. He couldn't scream and he couldn't move; only his eyes could, and they were fixed on the shadow hovering above him. He could feel his chest heaving, and he could feel his heart beating rapidly, speeding up. Everything spun, blurring in and out of focus, and his head pounded. His body and limbs – previously heavy – felt light, but were beyond his control. He was cold, but he was also burning. He was…

Something wet ran down his cheek. Was he crying?

The shadow reached out, its semi-transparent brushing against his face all while he screwed his eyes tightly shut, trying to block it out with no success. _"Allen…"_

The voice… there was an almost tender quality to it, a dreadful but also strangely comforting familiarity. The shadow – there was a distinct quality of sadness to it where it sat, devoid of the distinctive grin it had worn previous to his own decline. It seemed almost worried – concerned about him even, even if it was a quite ludicrous thought if one actually considered it. It was, it really…

**- o0o -**

_He came to on the floor, on his back, as the knife was brought down on him, digging onto flesh._

_He could hear screaming. The voice was vaguely familiar to him, but it was only afterwards that he managed to place it as his own, his throat raw from the strain._

_"__I curse you, Allen!"_

_The knife cut deeper._

_"I curse you!"_

_Screams._

_He screwed his eyes back shut._

_Again, there were shadows – voices – whispering…_

_His eyes snapped back open._

_He found himself standing in a rapidly growing pool of blood, looking down upon the man on the floor with a severed throat._

_There was fire – lots of fire – and the blood sizzled slightly when they came into contact with each other._

_There was a knife in his hand – a bloodied knife clutched by his shaking hands. Eyes wide with shock, he let go of it. It fell to the floor, clattering, causing a slight splash._

_He stared down at it, seeing but not really comprehending._

_Once he did, he scrambled backwards, all while his eyes remained on the macabre sight before him._

_Had he really…?_

**- o0o -**

"_Allen… sleep."_

The words were soft, but determined. They held power, power to influence those who listened.

He turned his head away, willing himself to withstand it, but the hand returned, caressing his cheek almost tenderly, repeating the command. He twisted away from it.

**- o0o -**

_The knife was back in his possession, and he gripped it tightly with both hands, the pointed end directed towards his chest._

_He wanted to live; he wanted to die; he wanted to…_

_His body made his decision for him._

_He screwed his eyes shut; coughing as more smoke invaded his nostrils._

_Absentmindedly, he wondered whether it would hurt or if it would just end._

_Unsurprisingly, he hoped for the latter._

_Too much, it was just too much…_

_However, the blade never reached him._

_It was stopped, held back by an unwavering force._

_His eyes cracked open, slowly, as another wave of disorienting heat washed in over him as the flames crept closer._

_Light?_

**- o0o -**

He tried to force his eyes to remain open, unwilling to leave wakefulness behind to be at its mercy, but he felt his eyelids grow heavier. It was a losing battle; even he knew that. In the end, he was too weak to do anything against it; in the end, he would no doubt succumb to it, no matter how much he strived not to.

**- o0o -**

_Without knowing why, he held out his hands towards it, even though he could barely see it through the smoke._

_The world – already obscured by intense heat and smoke – was gradually swallowed by light and he thought, for just a second, that he had actually died there somewhere along the way and was headed towards the afterlife, whatever it entailed._

_For a brief moment, he had hope – maybe it was already over, the nightmare his life had recently escalated to? Maybe it had all been just a bad dream, and maybe he would just find himself waking up to the kind face of Mana – the real Mana and not the madman of an impostor who had worn his face? Maybe it was all just…?_

_Maybe it was all…?_

_All…?_

**- o0o -**

There was _something_, _something_ upon him.

His eyes snapped wide open and his hand shot out in the same instant, fingers wrapping tightly around that _something_ before he even realized what he was doing.

Even with his eyes wide open, it took a while for his brain to register that he had his fingers wrapped around someone else's throat. As the realization took hold, he withdrew his hand instantly, cradling it against his chest as if he had been burned by something, watching the world around him with wide uncomprehending eyes, feelings of panic steadily rising within him.

"Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Tyki noted with a hint of amusement intermingling with something else, something which he could not place, all while rubbing his throat.

Just by looking, just by watching the motion, Allen knew it would most definitely leave bruises, and he also knew it was ones he himself had inflicted on the other. He clutched the limb more tightly to his chest, screwing his eyes back shut in an attempt to force himself to calm down. He could feel Tyki's eyes on him. There was no resentment, and he supposed he should feel relieved by that, but instead there was something else – curiosity, possibly even fascination – and truthfully, that frightened him.

Fingertips – very familiar and cold against his skin – lingered on his face, stroking his cheek. "How are you feeling?"

He tried his best not to flinch beneath his touch, but he still did, knowing he would have leaned into it only a week or so previously. He didn't know for sure how long he had been in such a state, but it had grown steadily worse since the time he spent down inside the catacombs. It hadn't been that bad initially; initially, he had pinned it all down to a mixture of physical exhaustion and stress, but it didn't go away. It lessened on occasion before setting back in, leaving him in a state where only the mildest physical strain sent him crumbling to the floor. Part of it could probably have been attributed to the fact that he barely ate, seeing that his appetite was gone, but even when he tried to force himself, his condition didn't improve, all while his body temperature kept fluctuating back and forth. Pills didn't help either – not much, at any rate.

The fingertips returned, pressing against his brow, along with the voice – ever familiar. "You want me to get you anything?"

He didn't flinch this time around; he just frowned lightly in response, keeping his eyes firmly shut. Then, the fingertips left his forehead, giving his hair a playful ruffle before leaving altogether as the mattress shifted, indicating that a weight had left it.

Before long, he heard the sound of retreating footsteps headed for the door, followed by the click of the door being shut and locked, from the outside. Only then did he crack his eyes open, letting them wander tiredly around the room, noting it was the same one he had spent his previous nights in during the time he had been more or less out of it. It was supposedly a guest room and all, but even if he could tell it had been cleaned fairly recently, he could tell it had been uninhabited for quite some time, years and years even.

It was an unfamiliar room, but he still knew it for what it was – It was the room of Neah, of the shadow stalking him. It was Neah Walker – or at least the shadowy imprint of what remained of him – a black mass which had at some point been human – or at least the essence of one – which had at some point been corrupted by darkness. It was an entity, and a powerful one at that. However, though it was certainly what he would've classified as demonic, it wasn't malicious – not to him.

He really didn't know how he could tell, but somehow he knew. He knew the shadow; he knew its touch. It was familiar, and as was the face of his silent guardian – it was the same as the one staring back at the camera from the few pictures Mana had showed him once, depicting him and his brother, him and his everything. His own memories – recollections he had deliberately suppressed, wanting little to do with the painful past – had resurfaced, and with them came knowledge, not only his own but also that of the other, because they were connected – they had been connected ever since that day, that day when all went to Hell.

Back when he was a child, with no parents to claim as his own or be claimed by, he had – at least unconsciously – sought to connect with someone; with someone. His abilities had been with him from birth, or rather, the potential and heightened spiritual sensibility had been there, just as it existed within many other children. However, while other children's perception of what lay beyond normally dulled, his own senses remained sharp. Up until a certain point, he had not even been able to tell the difference, and had thought others viewed the same kind of scenery as he did, only to be told that he was either lying or imagining things, or that he was unnatural; that he wasn't a child, not a human one at any rate. To be truthful, he himself hadn't known what to believe, and to be even more truthful, he still didn't. Still, it was likely that something had been off with him from the very beginning, seeing that not even his own parents – whoever they had been – had wanted to hold onto him.

However, for all that people had a tendency to cut their ties to him, the spirits did the opposite. When people fled, spirits flocked, lured in by his presence. Occasionally, especially back when he was young, he had spoken to the ones he deemed less liable to lash out at him, like the kindly old matron. Whilst others had called what he had a curse, she adamantly called it a gift, claiming that he was some sort of guide; that he had been chosen to send restless souls to the afterlife. At some point, he might actually have considered making it his life's mission – he felt like he understood spirits and lost souls, not humans. He had sympathy for them, because he felt like he knew what they were going through. They – at least those who sought him out and most of those that he encountered – were lost, just like he was, some of them drifting seemingly aimlessly between things and places familiar while others desperately clung to certain things to keep them anchored.

Mana had been his anchor – Mana had kept him grounded. Mana had accepted him for who and what he was – No, it had not only been acceptance, but love. No matter how insignificant it may have actually been, he was still certain that there had been love, not only for his ability to perceive the unseen, but also for him as a person. He was sure of that – No, he wanted to be sure of it, and he was sure there was something, if not real love then something similar; something of equal meaning and of equal importance, something real. Affection.

He had connected with Mana, and he had clung to him. They had clung to each other, acting as each other's anchors. Mana had tied him to the living world, and in return, Allen had tied Mana to the spirit world, acting as a link between him and his lost brother. At least that's the way things were supposed to be, but apparently – for Mana – it hadn't been enough. In the end, Mana hadn't wanted a mediator; he had wanted the real thing, no matter what he had to go through to get it. But that was after he had been driven over the edge; that was after he had become obsessed with black magic to bring his brother's spirit back.

Black magic rituals.

The power of human sacrifice.

The greater the sacrifice, the greater the gain.

He had never really practiced the art himself – not to his own knowledge, at least – but he still understood the basics of it, partially because of an instinctual understanding of matters relating to the spirit world, but mostly because of the experience he had in terms of dealing with it, even though he usually made a point to avoid taking on more serious cases of involving demonic entities, seeing that cases of such a kind were rarely worth the effort, considering the humble amount one usually got for them. Still, that didn't mean that he slacked off in terms of doing research, even if past experience – some of which were far too close to home – ensured that he still felt sickened whenever he encountered it. Then again, there was a distinct difference between those who dabbled with things they didn't understand and ended up getting hurt for it and those who knew exactly what they were doing and hurt others, and Allen knew exactly which type of people he was in the grasp of.

For the longest time, he had ignored it. He had taken the money which had either been pressed into his palm or been wired into his account, averting his eyes from the truth which lay right in front of him. He wasn't stupid; he had done his research when he was first approached by a whimsical and utterly eccentric man, and he had known at least to some extent what type of people they were before he began dealing with them.

In the end, he couldn't help but wonder whether it hadn't all been just a trap to lure him into their fold. There had already been the connection to Mana and the Neah, so in the end it made sense that they – or rather the Earl – had wanted to keep an eye on him, initially doing so through Tyki Mikk, the latter of whom seemed to take his job very seriously, seeing that he was genuinely interested in the subject of interest.

Back then, back when he had initially freed himself of Cross and all that, he had been desperate for a place of his own, decently sized, decently located, decently priced and all that. It should've been hard – really, it _should've_ been hard – to find a property like that which lay within his rather limited affordable price range, yet he had still found the place just at the right time when he needed it and taken note of that it was just perfect to suit his purposes. He really should've been more careful; he really should've paused for a bit and thought twice about the low amount they wanted in terms of rent and looked into the matter further, instead of merely discarding the notion upon discovering and appeasing the spirits of a few of the previous tenants, who lost their lives in a triple homicide and ended up sticking around to chase out whoever came next.

Then again, perhaps that one had truly been a coincidence, considering the nature of the haunting and the degree of harassment the following tenants suffered. Besides, it was only afterwards that Tyki Mikk showed up, following the sudden suicide of his next-door neighbor, with a request that Allen did something about the dead guy hiding out in his bathroom.

Naturally, Allen had been quite surprised that a) his new neighbor apparently knew about his part-time job, and b) that the aforementioned dead guy was cowering behind the shower curtain, clearly terrified of something – or rather, of some_one_ – and practically begging him to release him from his plight. Naturally, Allen had thought this kind of behavior from a ghost was rather strange, considering the circumstances. Then again, upon discovering the seeming fact that the newest tenant next-door could apparently walk through walls, Allen had – quite naturally – freaked.

The aforementioned freak-out had eventually resulted in him attempting to bolt, and when that failed, in him hitting his head and in him throwing the contents of a whole bottle of Holy Water at him, the latter of which had only resulted in a mildly surprised – and dripping wet – Tyki Mikk, who had then taken advantage of the fact that he – Allen – was still a bit dazed from taking a hit to the head and was as such not capable of providing much resistance, and had more or less triumphantly hauled him right back in and had – whilst efficiently blocking off all of the eligible escape routes – successfully negotiated a truce between them over a couple of slices of pizza. Said truce later on resulted in a quite amiable relationship, seeing that it proved pretty damn difficult to hate someone who regularly provided pizza as well as other peace offerings at the drop of a hat.

It was after that – once the irregular had become regular occurrences – that he had fully opted for a mental strategy of not prying into Tyki's motivations, reasoning that it was probably better – not only for him, but for all the parties involved – not to look into the matter anymore than necessary. He preferred living inside his own little bubble, mostly disconnected from the rest of the world; the big picture had never really interested him that much, and his background had left him generally devoid of feelings of duty towards the world. He liked minding his own business; he only ever really wanted to mind his own business, foregoing his principles only when it suited him, and mostly whenever he was motivated by financial gain. So, maybe he really was kind of a bad person when it all came down to it, but what about it? Considering the things he had been put through, the world should be God damn happy that he only demanded payment for solving other people's problems, instead of using his abilities to cause some real chaos, misery and destruction. No really, they should be God damn thankful he wasn't into those sorts of things, at least not beyond what could be considered normal. Evidently, part of him probably did harbor some sort of wish to watch the world burn, but all in all, he just wanted it to leave him alone to the extent which should be considered reasonable. That was it; he just wanted that and little else. Was it truly too much to ask?

Yes. Yes, it was. In hindsight, it was bloody damn obvious.

He rolled onto his back, staring blearily up towards the ceiling.

Yes. Yes, it was.

He closed his eyes, releasing a shuddering breath.

**- o0o -**


	8. The Summoning II

_Not a very exciting chapter. The next should be up… Sunday, at the latest. Nevertheless, enjoy._

**- o0o -**

**The Summoning II**

**- o0o -**

Lavi Bookman shifted uncomfortably where he sat next to an increasingly grim-looking Kanda Yu in an unused classroom, alongside a number of their classmates, all of them looking quite nervous as they all waited for their superior to turn up and hopefully just tell them what had been the cause of them having been summoned to a sudden emergency meeting.

To be completely honest, Lavi wasn't even sure he accurately remembered the last time they even had one of these meetings, even though he – possessing a quite keen memory and ability to recall if he was allowed to say so himself – probably should have remembered it, seeing that the aforementioned meetings only ever occurred when something very serious of larger proportions had occurred or was about to occur, and seeing that he himself could not actually recall any particular event or threat of any greater magnitude having been of any particular issue lately, he could not help but wonder just what the Hell had taken place while he had been busy with janitor duty in the library to compensate for his seeming lack of competence in dealing with the case dealing with the Parisian catacombs. Then again, now that he thought of it, that catacombs case had in actuality been a "track-down-wayward-truanting-student-and-hopefully-bring-him-back" sort of mission, so maybe…

Pausing, he collected his thoughts, sending off another glance in direction of his grim-looking companion. Normally, he would've done the things he usually did whenever the aforementioned was in one of his moods – to mess with him, obviously – but for some reason, there was a strange deviation in the other's expression, a disparity which he took as a clear warning not to provoke the other needlessly. Still, normally he most definitely would have turned to the other with a grin on his face and cracked a joke or something, or called the other by first name as a means to annoy him, but the day somehow seemed unsuitable for it, in one way or the other.

Still, it was boring as Hell to just sit still in a room full of people who in turn was full of tension, some showing it more openly than others. Hell, even Daisya was actually quiet for once, even if he was tapping restlessly on the football on his lap a couple of desks away, wearing an expression which clearly indicated that he would rather be somewhere else entirely.

It seemed as though even Marie – Noise Marie – had been called in, seeing that the man sat in the desk next to Daisya's, seemingly contemplating something written in Braille. Seeing Marie around was rarely a good sign, seeing that he – at least to the extent of Lavi's own knowledge – normally had a fulltime employment elsewhere, dealing with the Order only on a freelance basis.

The people he knew as Aleister Crowley and Miranda Lotto were there too, each of them their individual bundle of nerves, though it was perfectly understandable seeing that neither of them had been involved with the Order for very long and that neither of them had ever attended a meeting such as this one. Then again, counting their relative inexperience with the world of the supernatural, Lavi could not help but wonder why they could possibly have been summoned along with the rest of them. After all, if they really were up against some sort of threat, it would be kind of hazardous to bring in people who barely had any actual experience in handling such situations; trained or not, they could easily become a burden to the rest of the unit, especially so if they were highly spiritually sensitive and highly lacking in terms of the skills to efficiently defend themselves. Truly, what were the higher-ups – not to mention Komui – thinking?

_Speaking of the Devil_, Lavi noted absentmindedly as he caught the sound of the aforementioned individual's voice, arguing in heated tones with another which was much less familiar to him, all while hurried footsteps echoed through otherwise empty and darkened hallways. After all, it really wouldn't do to call in an emergency meeting during the daytime and all – Oh no, the clock was already nearing eleven P.M., and somehow he doubted he would be leaving it before midnight, even if he did – technically speaking – have an exam in the morning and all, not that exams meant much when the supposed fate of something else depended on his presence and all.

He sighed, slumping slightly in his posture, probably earning himself a few odd looks from the rest of the room's occupants, but he straightened up almost immediately once Komui Lee entered and strode up to the desk up front, slamming his palms into its surface before leaning onto it, watching them all with a sudden but not all that unexpected seriousness.

"Gentlemen," he began, pausing slightly before tilting his head in Miranda's direction, giving her an acknowledging nod just as Lenalee snuck in through the door and took a seat. "Ladies…"

Uh-oh… formal speech. Obviously something had to have gone to Hell, and whatever it was it had to have been something of vital importance as far as Lavi himself could tell.

"We…" Komui continued, retaining his position. "Have a problem, and are possibly about to face one of the greatest crises in the modern history of the Order…"

Silence met him, and he turned towards the board, picking up a piece of chalk. "Kevin Yeegar," he wrote the name. "Klaud Nine, Winters Socalo…" he continued, and name upon name followed in quick succession before he paused, turning slightly towards them. "They were the first, in modern times, to fall prey to _them_…"

Them. Somehow, Lavi had a distinct feeling he knew exactly which _them_ his superior was talking about. Vaguely, he recalled that his guardian – known to the world simply as Bookman – had made some vague mention of _them_ at some point.

Years previous, there had been a sudden upsurge in supernatural activity, leading the Order to issue a special license to formally exorcise spirits to a small number of its former students. Along with said license came certain privileges, one of which allowed said students to have their living expenses covered by the Order, a privilege which had been used more by some than others. Said privileges had also been revoked for the most part, mostly because one student in particular had abused them quite severely. Still, the special license had still brought about a group of very talented exorcists which proved capable of dealing with some very perilous situations concerning the supernatural. It all escalated to the point when they had become known as Demon Hunters due to their obvious talent in handling the more violent negative entities people commonly referred to as demons or black masses, and it had been then that something rather peculiar had begun to happen.

It had started with the overseer of the group – Kevin Yeegar – being found crucified with the words _God Hunt_ carved into his back. Admittedly, the man had still been alive by the time he was found and taken down from there, but from what Lavi had been told, the man's sanity was long gone by that point, and rumors had it that he was still institutionalized.

The second one to go was Klaud Nine, who was found in her apartment. Rumors had it that it seemed as though some large beast had decided to chew on her.

The third – and last of the group itself – to be discovered was Winters Socalo. Lavi didn't recall having heard any particular details to that one, but he vividly recalled having been told it had been gruesome.

The fourth victim – of what could possibly be perceived as the revenge of the so called demons the group had hunted – was a woman by the name of Maria, the late fiancé of Cross Marian, who – along with Winters Socalo – had counted as one of the more notorious hunters.

Following this event, Froi Tiedoll – the only of the hunters that had seemingly escaped unscathed – retired suddenly and left the country soon afterwards, while Cross Marian himself had allegedly dropped off the face of the earth for a very long time, resurfacing briefly every now and then, always disappearing before anyone of the Order managed to make contact with him.

An errant hermit and an equally wayward rebel; they were really all which remained of the once elite of the Order's trained exorcists. In hindsight, it was plain obvious that they had – in one way or another – stumbled upon something big and ended up paying the price for it. Or, as Bookman had theorized, they had been foolish enough to go after the wrong opponent and weren't expecting the later repercussions of it. A foolish old man or not, Lavi had little reason to question the old man's judgment on things like this, seeing that the man in question had always made it his business to know stuff others didn't.

Lavi pinched the bridge of his nose as old recollections made their return. Oh yes, now he remembered. The list.

Komui Lee had written new names on the board. Lavi only needed to glance at them, knowing which ones would be there already.

Tina Spark. Gwen Flail. Sol Galen.

Three girls; three friends who did everything together; they even died, alongside each other, one after the other at short intervals.

Kazaana Lido. Chaker Rabon. Suman Dark.

Three men; teaching colleagues at the school. Two dead, one comatose.

Timothy Hearst.

He blinked, studying the name with a greater deal of interest. It was entirely unfamiliar to him, just as the one which followed.

Alma Karma.

It was vague, but he sensed it clearly as if there was a spike of energy in their surroundings. A single visible green eye flickered to Kanda, confirming what he had already felt beforehand as the other grew tenser, features darkening.

Now that, if anything, was a sure-fire indication that there was something reeeeeeally bad in the making.

Then, he looked back to the board, eye widening at the sudden increase of names, some of which he knew and some of which he didn't, all of which he realized had something undeniable in common. Occasionally, people accused him of being rather dense, but there was a distinct difference between actually being dense and pretending to be so that no one would pay much attention and be too wary of him in the field. He paid attention to his surroundings and to the people inhabiting it; he really did, and as such it was not that strange for him to know a whole slew of those names, seeing that they had riddled newspaper headlines from time to time, in connection to mysterious accidents which either resulted in that the people involved either died or fell comatose.

If he recalled things correctly, Timothy Hearst – who had really been just a kid – had been the latest, of the ones he knew of at any rate. But what could possibly…?

If all these cases really were connected to each other, wasn't this an obvious case of…

"Demonic entities," Komui announced before Lavi was able to finish his thought, suddenly holding a thick file in his hands. "The people on this list who haven't died already – in other words, those who have been comatose, many of whom have been in such a state for years – just up and disappeared from their beds without anyone really noticing, and are now – apparently – walking around in plain daylight. But, the thing is that this isn't just some miraculous recovery, because though their bodies are up and running again, the people they used to belong to are no longer controlling them…"

So it was an obvious case of demonic possession then. Now that was – or at least had the potential to be – troublesome, but by no means impossible. If anything, besides dealing with the entities themselves, then dealing with the cover-up would obviously be troublesome, since it was generally just a tad difficult to explain why long-term comatose people were suddenly up and walking around, with all due likelihood with a personality change to match. Sure, it sounded like an overall troublesome event, but by no means the kind of event one would normally expect when Komui actually went as far as to call it one of the greatest crises in the modern history of the Order. So just what the Hell…?

"But this is just the beginning," Komui went on, a slight tremble in his voice. "Or rather, this is just a diversion, intended to keep us busy while _they_ make their move…"

Okay, so what could possibly be worse than a whole slew of demons hijacking the bodies of spiritually gifted individuals in a densely populated area like London?

_Wait…_

Lavi found himself frowning, ceasing his inner attempt to piece the pieces of the puzzle together in favor of taking a step backwards to get a better view of the big picture, eye widening as a sudden sense of realization struck him, and he imagined that his face lost most of its color by then too. _Oh Hell…_

"Lavi?"

Lenalee's voice. He snapped his head in direction of it, only then realizing how he was suddenly the center of attention. At some point, Komui had stopped speaking in favor of looking at him strangely, and he realized with a start that his face and neck was covered in cold sweat. Hell, even Kanda was giving him a look – not that it was one of utter concern or anything, but it was still different from the ones the latter usually sent in his direction.

He opened his mouth – for what exactly, he did not know – but found his speech impeded by the sudden chuckles that kept rising within him. "Komui…" he found himself saying, still unable to hinder the occasional chuckle from coming out of his mouth. "If _they_ are who I think _they_ are, set on doing what I think _they_'ll do, why the Hell are we sitting here on our asses wasting our time instead of actually doing something about it?"

With all due likelihood, he seemed just a tad hysterical; he realized as much, just as he realized that it was something which was extremely out of character for him. But really, with the thing which was apparently going down, was this really any time to sit around and discuss the state of affairs when the time limit of putting a stop to it all was already approaching? Honestly…

_We're so screwed…_

**- o0o -**


	9. Birds of a Feather

_Two chapters, as one, depicting Allen's side of things. Not very proof-read, so feel free to inform me in case there are any glaring mistakes. Cheers._

**- o0o -**

**Birds of a Feather**

**- o0o -**

"_That's it…"_

**- o0o -**

"_That's it, Mana, that's it…"_

**- o0o -**

"_Keep going, Mana, keep going. Keep walking… down the path, to the lake…"_

**- o0o -**

"_Keep walking…"_

**- o0o -**

"_Wait there. If I'm not back for you by sunup, go find the nearest phone booth." _

**- o0o -**

"_Call this number."_

_He pressed a folded envelope into the palm of another – his brother, he recalled, his precious brother._

"_Call who?"_

"_A trusted friend." _

_A smile in the darkness, wistful._

"_Ask no questions, just tell him where you are so that he can come and pick you up."_

"_What about you?"_

_A question, asked by someone dreading the answers._

_A sigh, exasperated._

"_Mana, don't. We've been over this. Just… don't." _

_He leant down, placing his hands onto the other's shoulders._

"_I've already explained it to you. It's too dangerous." _

_He paused, staring deeply into his brother's eyes, trying not to betray the anxiety he felt about the situation._

"_I can defend myself, but you can't. If you stay here, you'll-… You have to get out of here…"_

_Something had to have shown on his face, because Mana's expression changed slightly._

"_Neah…"_

_He didn't want to do it; he didn't want to send him on his way, but it was the only way._

"_Mana… Trust me. He's already gone over the edge…We're running out of time… I have to stop him… It's now or never…"_

_No, it was already…_

"_But how…?"_

_It didn't matter. It never did. He had always known, deep within himself, about the fate which no doubt awaited him._

"_It doesn't matter how, but I'm going to do it."_

_There was a hand – how tiny it seemed – on his face._

_It was cold, trembling slightly._

"_But…"_

_He took it, surrounding it with his own hands, keeping it close to his face._

"_You mustn't let him find you. If he finds you, it'll be over for both of us."_

_Mana looked up, a hint of anger amongst all the deep-seated terror which lurked within his eyes._

"_But he'll kill you!"_

'_He' most definitely would, most certainly, if he ever learnt of the plan, but there was no need for Mana to know that._

"_I'll manage. I know what I'm doing. It will be alright."_

_He held his hand out._

_Everything would be alright, regardless of the reigning odds; he just had to believe._

"_Promise?" Soft fingertips brushed briefly against his knuckles before a smaller hand slipped into his as he took a step, followed by another, followed by yet another. "Promise that you'll come find me… when this is all over."_

"_This isn't over yet… But when it is, I'll come back for you, I promise. When I do, we'll be together again, just like before…"_

_At times, he wasn't even sure it would ever be over…_

_Eyes turned towards him, filled with hope, as they continued down the path in the dark._

"_Like family?"_

"_Yes," he affirmed. "Like a real family. We'll stick together, like a real family should."_

_Like all families should, but didn't._

_Dilated pupils watched him in the darkness, wavering between hopefulness and wariness._

"_Happily ever after?"_

_There was no happily ever after, not really, but he had to pretend, for Mana's sake and for his own sake as well._

"_Yeah, exactly like that. We'll join the circus, travel the country – the world, even – and then we'll… we'll be okay…"_

_Mana looked doubtful, pausing in his stride._

_Sighing, he looped his arm around his brother's shoulder, gently nudging him forward._

"_Mana, trust me. It won't end like this; I won't let it end like this."_

_He wouldn't; he had promised not to._

"_We'll have our happy ending; I promise."_

_Then again, as far as he had heard, promises were made to be broken._

_Mana looked up at him as they went along, seemingly hesitant._

"_Okay."_

_He smiled bleakly, momentarily reassured._

"_Now remember," he said. "Down the path, to the lake. Wait for sunup, find a phone booth, call the number on the envelope. And then?"_

_He stopped briefly in his stride and looked expectantly at Mana, who answered after a brief moment of hesitation._

"_I'll tell him where I am so that he can come and pick me up?"_

_He nodded._

"_Yes, that's right. Very good."_

_He paused._

"_And what are you not to do?"_

_Silence met him as Mana just shifted uncomfortably, averting his eyes._

"_I'm not to head back to the house," his brother finally yielded. "I'm not to come looking for you. I'm to hide in the ditch by the road until I get picked up."_

_He nodded again._

"_Yes, that's right. You'll stay where you are and hide. Okay?"_

_Mana bit his lip in response._

_Even after all they had been though, his brother still tried to keep from breaking down. Truly, it was commendable._

_He pulled him into a hug then, tightening his arms around him._

"_No matter what happens, you have to keep going; you have to keep walking. I'll catch up to you, for sure."_

_No matter how long it took…_

_He watched as his brother disappeared further down the path, in his mind already aware that it was probably the last time they would meet face to face._

"_Mana… I'm so sorry…"_

**- o0o -**

"_If I fail…"_

**- o0o -**

_He was in another place, standing at the very centre of crafted circle, surrounded from all sides, both by human figures and by erected stones, along with memories of a distant past._

**- o0o -**

"_If I can't stay in control…"_

**- o0o -**

_He closed his eyes, raising a bloodied ritual dagger over his head._

**- o0o -**

"_I need you to be somewhere safe."_

**- o0o -**

Silver-gray eyes shot back open, widening, and he sucked in a sharp breath, the images of the dream still vivid in his mind. For a brief moment, he saw everything with such clarity and there was only one thing on his mind, and that thing was to get the Hell out of there. In the next moment however, a certain degree of confusion overcame him, leaving him to wonder which to follow along with before deciding on the former.

With little hesitation, he forced himself into a halfway seated position, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed before straightening up, and right on cue, a wave of light-headedness slammed into him at full force, forcing him to pause in his endeavor. He cradled his head in his hands, waiting for the bout of light-headedness to subside, and once it had dropped to somewhat manageable levels, he stood, ready to reach out and lean onto the wall in case he required any additional support, viewing it as a small victory when he didn't. Immediately, his eyes scanned the room anew, mapping it out before his inner eye.

With some degree of effort, he made his way up to the room's only window, confirming something he had previously suspected.

While certainly big enough to escape through, the window had – at some point in time – been nailed shut. Tentatively, he reached out, fingertips brushing against the frame of it, wiping away a layer of dust. They were old – the nails, that is – older than ten years, but newer than thirty.

Through the window, he spotted some activity off by the gates. For some reason, the cars down there – black and sleek and all – looked strangely much like those he had seen on funerals, those which brought the casket along. A chill ran down his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and he was once again struck by a strange feeling of foreboding, similar to the one he had experienced back when he had gotten back from school on that fateful day Mana had finally snapped.

Ritual.

Sacrifice.

He shuddered involuntarily, suppressing a sudden urge to hug himself while trying to shake the ominous feeling off. It was more than just a bad feeling; it was an omen and a bad one at that, alerting him of imminent danger, one which he had deliberately ignored for months, up until the point where he had nearly forgotten to consider it as an actual threat to his continued health and livelihood.

He had to get out; he had to get out of there, right away, but how?

He turned around, directing his eyes towards the door. There was only one door – only one visible escape route – unless he had actually missed something…

Then, he was suddenly alerted by a faint presence, and his eyes turned to one of the corners of the room. First, he saw nothing, which in itself was quite weird since he normally wasn't the type to miss out on things. Then, gradually, a humanoid form took shape before his eyes, but it was slightly different from the shadow he had seen up until that point. It was more of an apparition, a silent specter, humanoid not only in shape but also in features. He recognized it instantly as a teenaged Neah Walker, looking nearly identical to the portrait he had seen earlier.

"Neah?" He spoke the name hesitantly, not knowing whether or not his eyes were only playing tricks on him.

The apparition did not speak, pointing towards a painting on the nearby wall instead before disappearing just as swiftly as it had appeared. After another glance towards the shut door, Allen swiftly strode towards it, reaching out. His fingertips lingered on the frame of it for a second before gripping it more tightly, lifting it up and away from the wall to see if there were actually anything hiding behind it. There wasn't; not on the wall at any rate. Instead, he flipped the painting slightly, only then really noticing the small note covered in symbols arranged in some sort of pattern that someone had stuck onto the back of it.

It looked old, but not ancient, even if the pattern certainly looked intricate enough, with numerous symbols chasing each other in circles surrounding another symbol which looked like some sort of emblem. His fingertips brushed against it, and in the next moment, a whole slew of memories not his own invaded his mind.

**- o0o -**

"_If I fail…"_

**- o0o -**

_He sat at a desk in a dimly lit room, bent over a seemingly ancient tome, studying ancient symbols._

**- o0o -**

"_If I can't stay in control…"_

**- o0o -**

_He picked up a pen, drawing with a purpose._

_He had a mission, a mission which had to be completed, regardless of the costs._

_Circle upon circle, symbol upon symbol, all of them with an individual purpose; each of them a link in a chain with the supreme purpose to seal. He drew them all with the same amount of care, knowing well that the slightest mistake could make the whole thing unbalanced, making it useless._

_He would have to avoid that, at all costs._

_It had to be perfect._

_After putting his last stroke on it, he withdrew slightly, looking at the completed maze where it was, marveling at it for a brief moment before slipping it into one of his books, just as someone knocked on the door to his room._

_He turned around in his chair, rising from it. He made his way up to the door, unlocking it._

_One chance; that was all he'd got._

**- o0o -**

He withdrew his hand quickly. His fingers still tingled slightly when he flipped the painting back around, returning it to its proper place up on the wall, and he had only just accomplished the task when another bout of dizziness hit, forcing him to use the wall to support himself. He had only just done that when the door opened with a creaking sound, revealing Tyki Mikk.

"Hey…" the other greeted, sounding somewhat admonishing in his tone while surveying his obviously somewhat disheveled pajama-dressed figure. "You shouldn't be up. C'mere."

Allen remained where he was, understandably wary.

"C'mere, Allen." The tone shifted slightly, betraying a certain degree of impatience. "Now…"

He remained where he was, still unable to tear his eyes away, silently wondering at which point in time everything had been turned on its end. "No."

The other took a step towards him then, and while he stood his ground, he still raised his hands slightly, as if preparing to either attack or defend himself against an oncoming assault, eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't."

The other let out something akin to a huff, taking another step towards him as he stiffened slightly, eyes narrowing even further. "Tyki, I'm warning you."

"And I'm warning you, Boy…" Tyki responded, taking another step towards him. "Don't make this any harder for yourself than it has to be…"

In a mere three strides, half of the distance between them had already been breached. He would have wanted to back away, but there was only a wall and a nailed-shut window behind him. He felt cornered, and he didn't like it.

"Look," Tyki said, folding his arms across his chest. "I don't know what you've seen, but I'm not going to hurt you…"

He took another step, an act which Allen responded to by taking a step of his own, backwards and to the side. "Don't…"

He sounded pathetic; he realized as much, just as he realized it was a foolish endeavor. Still, primal instincts were acting up and said instincts told him to run, run and run, preferably as fast and as far away as he possibly could.

"Listen…" Tyki took another step towards him. "I know you're perceptive when you wish to be, and I know that you think you've figured everything out, but listen…"

He felt like he knew this situation; like he had visited it previously at some point, in numerous forgotten nightmares.

"Things are already in motion," Tyki went on, remaining where he was, tilting his head slightly to the side. "You might think that we were the ones who came for you, but believe it or not, you were the one to seek us out…"

"How?" It was a pointless question, really. Even so, he had to ask.

"That Mana guy botched the ritual," Tyki returned, and Allen imagined something must have changed in his facial expression as a certain look appeared on the other's face. "Oh yes, we know all about it. Well, not _all_ about it, but it wasn't all that hard to fit the pieces together…"

He backed another step, his back finally leaning towards the window. "You don't know anything…"

Pointless words again, stalling the inevitable.

"Even after all these years, I can still smell it on you…" Tyki explained, taking another step towards him, all while he stubbornly stood his ground, unable to back away any further. "Darkness – you still reek of it. But you know… he was wrong about you…"

"He took you as a mere sacrifice, as a means to obtain an end," he went on, answering the unasked question, advancing another step so that he was close enough to reach out towards him, capturing his chin in a determined but gentle grip, tilting his face upwards so that their eyes met. "He failed to see your real potential…"

Allen didn't move; he only narrowed his eyes slightly. "And what is my actual potential?"

The grip on his chin remained, and the amber-colored eyes which looked down at him glimmered with something akin to amusement. "You have the potential to be one of us. To be great. To stand above the masses… But you don't want that, do you? Not really…"

"Once," Tyki Mikk continued, a hint of nostalgia coloring his voice. "I was just like you. It might seem hard to believe, but it's the truth…"

There was a brief pause, a tense silence filled with the unsaid. Then, finally, Tyki spoke once more. "I was a foster child, a waif. Like you, I got caught in a system and was put through things many would have been equal to Hell… I didn't care though; I had stopped caring long before that…"

Somehow, however begrudgingly, Allen found that he could relate to that.

**- o0o -**

_A knife – ever familiar – gleaming in the light of fire…_

_Resignation, waiting for the inevitable…_

**- o0o -**

_"__I curse you, Allen!"_

**- o0o -**

_A knife – dreadfully familiar – slipped from his grip, falling to a floor, into a growing pool of red…_

_Fire…_

_A burning inferno, right before his uncomprehending eyes…_

**- o0o -**

_"I curse you!"_

**- o0o -**

Even after all the stuff he had been put through, he still held no desire to see the world burn; he merely wanted it to leave him alone. Was that really too much to ask for?

He should have kept walking; he should have kept on going.

Mana had been his anchor; he didn't need another one to keep him grounded. He didn't…

The fingers which had previously been clutching his jaw had left it, trailing down his throat towards the back of his neck and upwards, raking through his slightly tangled hair once before bringing him headfirst up against Tyki's front, his head against the other's ribcage.

He was starting to feel weird again; tired. Even if he still possessed enough energy to resist, his will just suddenly wasn't there. Perhaps it was because he had given up already, realizing that he couldn't really do anything, or perhaps it was because of Tyki's words had already gradually broken down an already weakened resistance. There was an almost hypnotic quality to them; they lashed onto him and drew him in, trapping him against the other as another bout of strange dizziness took hold.

"I was a survivor, and I survived through remaining indifferent to my circumstances. When I realized things weren't working out for me, I took to the street."

"It might sound strange, but I loved it; to me, it was the best thing which could ever have happened to me."

"I flourished, and eventually, I picked up a family of my own, strays just like me. We were outsiders and lived by our own laws; we took care of each other, looked out for each other… and then, society rushed in to tear us apart…"

He could almost see it before his mind's eye, at the same time as he could feel himself up against the other's front, the fabric of the other's coat clutched tightly in his hands.

"I got angry, and attacked the people sent to bring us back into the fold. I nearly killed a guy, and assaulted several police officers before they managed to bring me in…"

He could still hear the words themselves, but only vaguely as other things – visions, reminiscent of memories – invaded his mind.

"Then, when I sat locked up in a dark cell, alone in the world, I cursed my own powerlessness…"

"I had lost control over not only the situation but also of myself. I knew I was screwed… and then, the Devil himself appeared before me…"

"Metaphorically speaking, of course, seeing that it was not the Devil himself but rather his right-hand man… but either way, he gave me an offer I couldn't refuse, and I took it, reasoning that it couldn't be worse than anything I had already been through…"

There was another pause, and along with it was a hand on his head, fingers raking through his hair once more. The action made his hair stand on end, but it was still oddly relaxing.

"Foolish, I know," he heard Tyki admit, voice carrying a strange kind of softness to it. "But, if you stand powerless to change your own fate and someone just waltzes in and offers you a solution along with an opportunity to obtain all the power you could ever need, what would you do?"

"I would doubt my own sanity," he found himself mumbling, his eyes still screwed tightly shut as he retained his grip on the other's coat.

The hand in his hair continued its ministrations. "And so did I, until said Devil bailed me out and took me in…"

There was another pause, followed by a light shrug. "Admittedly, going through the ritual wasn't a very pleasant experience, but all in all, I believe I gained far more than I lost, and so could you…"

He opened his eyes, unable to keep a hint of bitter disbelief from his voice as he spoke. "By allowing a demonic entity to merge with me?"

"Well, if you have to put it like that, yeah," Tyki readily admitted. "Believe it or not, but it's actually pretty neat once you've gotten used to it, with breaking the laws of physics and all…"

"That kind of power…" That kind of power; he had already seen it at work. He already knew the amount of destruction it could cause; the vast number of things it could destroy. "I don't want it; I don't need it…"

He was already a part of it; he had already used it, and in return, it had already tainted him.

"He – the entity which merged with Neah Walker – has already left his mark on you," Tyki went on. "However briefly, he has already possessed you once, and in doing so, he left an imprint on you, leaving just a fraction of his own power within you… and that power comes at a price…"

**- o0o -**

_"Hey, freak…"_

_Bullies – established and potential ones – cornering him, hoping they would get lucky where countless others had failed…_

_He'd since long grown tired of being harassed; he'd since long given up on his faith in the goodness of man. Even so, he was always holding back._

_A hand grabbed him, lifting him by his collar…_

_He just wanted to be left alone; why couldn't they just get it already?_

_"Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you, freak!"_

_Cold silver-grey eyes narrowed to slits…_

_There was a hint of fear in the other's eyes, but even so, the grip on his collar tightened._

_"You don't scare me, you freak…"_

_The aggressor was quietly cheered on by his peers._

_"I'm gonna make you really sorry for that trick you pulled on the others…"_

_Ah, the others…_

_He remembered them; equally foolish, equally damned._

_If anyone had a right to hold a grudge, it was him. _

_If anyone should have the right to have their revenge, it was he who had the right to have his vengeance on the world and on the people who had cast him aside._

_Then again, they would never see it his way, would they?_

_He had always held himself back; he had always attempted to do so, at any rate._

_Still, inevitably, there were times when he simply just had enough…_

**- o0o -**

"People usually say that opposites attract, but that saying about birds and feathers holds true just as fully, if not more," he heard Tyki say, voice bringing him back into the present.

"Birds of a feather flock together?" he whispered, feeling the arm looped around his back tighten its grip.

"It's about energy – energy and a type of 'gravity'," the other began, sounding wistful. "The greater something is, the greater pull it has on the things surrounding it. In other words, the more powerful something or someone is, the greater its ability to draw others towards it…"

"You, as a powerful psychic, are a beacon. As such, the spirits flock to you like moths to a streetlamp," Tyki went on. "However, at the same time, there's darkness within you, and that darkness calls out to others, entities… Demonic entities, if you will…"

"But, deep down, you already knew that, didn't you?" the other continued, his tone growing softer. "Deep down, you knew, from the very first day we met. Or rather, you knew there was something off with me – something which wasn't quite right with me – but once I showed you what I could do, you knew for sure. You knew for sure, but you chose not to care, and that – believe it or not – was the moment I fell in love…"

It was true; he hadn't bothered to care, and now, that came back to haunt him, and quite literally at that. Love? What an alien notion in a world of such despicable beings capable of doing such despicable things. Love? What a joke. What a cruel, cruel, and utterly hurtful joke…

"Even after I became what I am, I wanted to continue living my life," Tyki explained. "I wanted to be a perfectly ordinary – albeit slightly eccentric – guy; I wanted to get a girlfriend; I wanted to get in trouble… you know, I wanted to just be. But as you know, being able to walk through walls isn't a perfectly ordinary thing to do, and people do have this tendency of freaking out… and I can't say things got better after I tried explaining things to them, what I was and so on…"

"What happened to them?" It was more of an automatic response than an actual inquiry; he understood that, and apparently, so did Tyki Mikk, leering down at him in a silent _You know that already, don't you, Boy?_

It made him go cold on the inside, but once he spoke, his voice came out flat rather than harsh. "You made them disappear."

"A few, yes," the other readily admitted. "As for the others, I'd say they would probably have been better off dead, in hindsight…"

"But don't worry," he added, having taken note of how Allen had tensed up slightly. "You're not like them; you're like us."

_Like us._ The words themselves were likely meant as comfort – as reassurance – but came across as something else, something sinister.

"I'm nothing like you." Once again, it was more of an automated response than anything else. It was as if his mind was slowing down, switching to autopilot.

"That's what one may think, but perhaps we're more alike than you think."

"Just because we've got vaguely similar backgrounds doesn't mean we are anything alike. I don't…" They were alike; he just didn't want to admit that to himself. He wanted to believe that he hadn't gone past that; that he hadn't sunk to such a level yet.

"You don't kill?" Tyki returned, voice betraying his amusement. "That's a lie, and you know it. Your hands are bloody, just like mine…"

Allen turned his face away, trying to push away from the other rather than cling to him, as if physically rejecting the notion, an act which only earned a greater amount of amusement along with a tightened arm around his shoulders.

"You don't agree with me?" Tyki snickered. "But it is a bit funny, don't you think, how I've known you for all this time yet never seem to be able to recall you ever having held a knife in my presence… When you try to defend yourself, you use spells and some sort of martial arts; never weapons. Or rather, if you do use any tools, they're blunt. It's as if you're scared you're going to cut something up – some_thing_ or some_one_. Like you're going to lose control merely by holding onto the instrument itself…"

Again, he tried to push away, his attempts futile in the face of the other's strength. "A very keen observation," he remarked somewhat bitterly.

He did not need to see Tyki's smirk to know it was there. "But not a faulty one, I take it, judging from your lack of denial?"

What exactly was there to deny? He had lost it at least once; what guarantees did he have that it would not happen again?

"Allen…" The voice which spoke to him admonished him rather than mocked him, but it was all the same. "That kind of fear is highly irrational. You've killed, but from what I can tell, it was a onetime occurrence, likely because said person was trying to kill you, making it an act of self-defense…"

An act of self-defense? How about an act out of utter senselessness? "Is that supposed to make me feel better about myself?"

"Not really." The arm around his shoulders loosened its grip slightly before leaving them altogether, allowing him to push away and to step backwards, his back once again against the window. "I was merely stating the facts…"

Then, there it was again, the beckoning…

"Come."

He resolutely stood his ground, even while realizing the uselessness of it all. "No."

A heavy sigh met him. "Let's look at this realistically, Allen," Tyki then said, a hidden edge to his voice. "I could easily overpower you in the state that you're in. I could, but that doesn't mean I want to. I'd prefer it if you came along willingly…"

Allen resisted the temptation of smiling sardonically at that. "Even while knowing the things you lot are going to do to me?"

"Yeah, and I do know that's asking a lot. But hey, it gets better."

He snorted openly in disbelief. "And you honestly expect me to believe that?"

The smirk on the other's face broadened noticeably. "Pretty much."

He averted his eyes from it, annoyed by the fact that it made his cheeks color slightly. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're right about the knives. If I had a gun however, I would definitely shoot you right now."

"Hoh…" the other responded, his smirk persistent. "Tough love."

Silver-grey eyes narrowed slightly before turning towards him once more, scrutinizing him. "You want me to come along quietly."

"Hey, it's either that or me either knocking you out or drugging you, and I'm fairly sure neither of us wants that kind of outcome," Tyki defended himself.

"I'm sure we wouldn't," Allen agreed, his posture relaxing some as he leaned more heavily against the window, his hands resting on the windowsill. Oddly enough, it was as if his most recent admission had eased up on the tension, restoring the extreme to a situation of reasonable normalcy.

"So?" Tyki said, clearly expecting more of him.

"Is it inevitable?" he finally asked, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

He could almost hear the shrug in the other's response. "What the Earl says goes."

He forced his eyes back open once more, once again overcome by a feeling of weariness. "I'm sick of this. I'm sick of it all…"

"Yeah, I kinda figured." Tyki shifted slightly, making a vague gesture towards the door. "Wanna get things over with? The others are already waiting for us by the car."

He turned his weary eyes towards the other for a brief moment before averting them once more. "I don't think I can walk…"

"So?" Tyki blinked slightly, seemingly surprised by the sudden admission. "I'll carry you."

Truthfully, he had figured as much.

"Where are we going?" he asked, looping his arms around Tyki's neck as he bent down to lift him.

Truthfully, it was probably a foolish question to ask, but Tyki decided to humor him nonetheless. "Places."

And that was that.

**- o0o -**


	10. Giving Chase and Making Haste

_Not very proof-read, so feel free to inform me in case there are any glaring mistakes. __Cheers._

**- o0o -**

**Giving Chase and Making Haste**

**- o0o -**

"Yo. How are you feeling?"

It took a fair degree of effort for him to pry his own eyes open, seeing to the fact that his eyelids felt as though they had been made out of lead.

"Tired." It was a severe understatement. He could barely even feel his own limbs, much less move them, seeing to the fact that the height of his ability seemed to be tilting his head slightly from one side to the other, a motion which only made him feel faint and rather nauseous and should as such be avoided to the best of his ability.

"You need anything?"

The voice was back again, familiar as ever. He knew it, as well as the owner of it, and he knew them both very well. Even the seeming concern he could detect in the other's tone was vaguely familiar to him, making him wonder just what – besides possibly his own sorry state of being – could possibly have invoked it.

"You mean besides high energy drinks?" he responded, trying to keep some amount of humour in it.

The other chuckled slightly in response. "I'll get some for you." – There were fingers in his hair, ruffling it – "Did you have any particular brand in mind?"

"Not really…" – wittingly or unwittingly, he leaned into the touch – "Say…"

The hand was withdrawn, to his partial dismay and partial relief. "What is it?"

He paused, prying his eyes open to momentarily survey his surroundings – the interior of a decently sized car – before focusing on the small and also vaguely familiar child resting against his side, sleeping by the looks of it. There was something important, something about what he was seeing that he either wasn't able to comprehend or hadn't been told about, things they – whoever they were – kept from him.

"…No." – he finally decided not to care; right now, he was too tired to do so – "It's nothing…"

**- o0o -**

"We're too late," Lavi noted as they had finished a quick search of the premises.

"Way to state the obvious, Idiot," Kanda retorted, re-entering the room.

"Oh well." Lavi took the other's comment in stride as he continued up a case of stairs, heading for the upper floor. "It looks like they were pretty sure of themselves, since they didn't really bother much in regards to erasing their own tracks…"

However, he had only just reached it when he found himself grabbed by the front of his collar and slammed hard into a nearby wall and held there by a by no means gentle grip which had itched dangerously close to pressing against his windpipe. "What?" he choked out as the hand on his collar shifted to do just that.

The other just tightened the grip, leaning in, eyes narrowing. "Who are you? _What_ are you?"

_What?_

"Hey… what's up with the sudden interrogation?" Sweat threatened to break out on his face, but he sought to hold it back. "I'm Lavi, your '_friend_'…"

The other's fingers – clamped around his throat – only tightened. "You're doing a lousy impersonation."

_Impersonation?_

"Hey! Impersonation?!" he sputtered, his single visible eye widening in disbelief. "I am perfectly fine, thank you, and I am very much myself, only with one significant difference…"

The grip did not relent.

"I'm actually being serious about this gig for a bit, seeing that we don't have time to mess around," he gasped, trying to pry the other's fingers from his throat. "Just let me do my job already!"

The hold let up slightly, and dark eyes narrowed even further. "What made you get serious all of a sudden?"

Lavi did not respond immediately, pointing to the other's hands before once again seeking to pry them away from his throat. Then, finally, the other caught the hint and let go of him altogether. The other's withdrawal sent him crashing to the floor, wheezing. He remained this way for a while – on his hands and knees – simply relishing in the fact that he was once again able to get a decent amount of oxygen to his brain, and he would have remained there even longer had the other not begun nudging him with his foot.

"It's a loooong story; I doubt you're interested," he finally admitted, peering up at the other. "Speaking of which, why does me being even slightly serious automatically add up to me being possessed?"

The other pulled a face but did not respond.

Lavi sighed heavily. "Okay, so never mind that…" he said, getting back to his feet with some degree of effort. "Now that I have broadened your general knowledge of my personality, I supposed it wouldn't hurt to rock your world a bit further…"

He screwed his eyes shut and reached up, prying the eye patch from his face, straightening up. Then, he rubbed his eyes, wincing mildly before blinking them both open, revealing them to be heterochromatic. Catching sight of his companion's expression with both eyes for a change, he actually snorted. "What? Just what the Hell did you think I had there? A hole? Geez…"

He took a step to the side, swaying a bit; highly unused to looking at the world with both of his eyes. To his great surprise, the other's arm shot out to steady him, but he decided not to comment on it. "Oh, and before you ask – Yes, I was born this way," he said instead, knowing he was rambling. He really should have come up with something better to talk about, but found that the words kept pouring out of him all the same, as if physically tearing the eye patch away from his face was the same as opening – possibly even breaking – a faucet, allowing since long dammed up emotions and words to rush forward, seemingly unstoppable. "My right eye has always been odd, capable of seeing stuff my left one isn't. It used to freak a lot of people out, so I ended up covering it up… Covering it up made life easier for me, so I kept it covered, long enough for me to almost forget about it. Almost. Lately though, it has kept reminding me of its existence…"

He paused momentarily to regain his breath, looking up at the other, a shamelessly fake grin plastering itself onto his face. "You look sceptical, but it's really no wonder if you didn't notice. I've been wearing masks since before I knew how to talk…" And possibly even before that; he didn't care enough to properly recall which.

"So, what's your story?" he asked instead, spitting the words out somewhat hurriedly, trying to change the topic before his loosened tongue caused him to spill something truly unspeakable. "I've always meant to ask, but I've never got around to it."

He needed only glance at the other's face to know the answer to that and he took a step away from the other, followed by another, not really looking at the other but certainly paying attention to the other's face and posture. "Wrong place and time, huh?" he noted without malice, using the wall to support him as he continued down the hallway, his eyes searching for stuff to investigate. He did not truly expect the other to follow – not immediately at any rate – but found the other trailing behind him nonetheless, and was even more surprised – shocked even – when a low voice rang out behind him.

"All my life… I have had vivid memories of a past life…"

He continued walking, keeping his eyes aimed forward, thinking the other would not continue should he turn around to have a look. He continued further into the house, all while listening to Kanda as the other spoke, his voice low and controlled – devoid of emotion – similar to that of one used in debriefing.

"In them, there was a woman… Alma Karma…"

His steps came to a pause; he was unable to help himself. "The list…" he commented simply, keeping his own voice perfectly neutral, wondering whether or not it would provoke the other.

"She was an exorcist," the other clarified, seemingly detached from the matter. "And so was I, and it was through work that we met. We weren't a part of any order; we were merely two freelancers who met each other by coincidence…"

Lavi continued walking. "She was your lover." It wasn't a question.

"She would have been my wife, but we never really got to that point," Kanda Yu snorted, harbouring something positively frigid in his tone and probably also in his expression.

"She died." Once again, it wasn't a question.

"She wasn't careful enough, and paid the price for it," Kanda responded. "By the time I found her, there was little I could do for her."

The other's voice did not crack, but the tone told of years of held back emotions – anger, regret and grief, unprocessed and as fresh as they had been at the time of the event – kept in place by years of training and emotional restraint.

"Dead?" he finally asked, feeling more than just a tad insensitive for prying.

"Cursed," Kanda responded, and he positively spat the word out. "She died slowly – piece by piece, bit by bit – and there was nothing I could do; there was nothing anyone could do."

"And you followed her." Once again, it wasn't a question.

"Not immediately," the other responded, seemingly uncaring. "I went to extract revenge first, but met a similar fate…" – Lavi winced at this – "Once reborn, and once I was old enough to think and act, I tried to track her down…"

"How?" The _"Why?"_ went past unasked; it really wasn't any of his business.

The other came to a pause, and so did he. Then, he sighed exasperatedly; pretty sure that he had ruined the moment. "Yeah, yeah… Mysterious eastern magic, I get it."

The other made no comment of it, moving past him. "I found her, eventually, or rather… I found her reincarnation."

"And?" Lavi asked as they finally reached a room at the end of the hallway. Looking closer, he noticed clear residue of dark matter on the door handle, and he reached out for it, only to be pushed aside before the other promptly kicked the door in before continuing to speak, entirely unaffected all while Lavi's own jaw went slack with a mixture of shock and awe.

"It was a boy my age, and we became good friends…"

Lavi swiftly pulled his mouth back shut, even though his own seeming disbelief – halfway true and halfway artificial – doubled. "Friends? With _you_?" It wasn't an insult; it as a cry of disbelief at that Kanda would ever go to the lengths to call someone a friend and to openly admit the existence of such a relationship.

"There was too much distance between us, both geographically and otherwise," Kanda continued, apparently intent on ignoring him. "I was too far away to do anything when it happened…"

"What happened?" he asked, once again unable to help himself.

Kanda paused. Then, he snorted. "His name never made the list, but his fate was the same as theirs."

"Comatose or dead?" he asked, once again feeling like he was not only teetering on the edge of breaking the rules of normal social interaction; at this rate, he had already stumbled right upon the borderline and made a headlong dive into the zone of what was decidedly insensitive and rather inappropriate to bring up in general.

However, for some reason, Kanda once again seemed intent on ignoring him. "Comatose," the other began. "Or at least he was until recently, when I witnessed him waltzing into Komui's office…"

Lavi finally entered the room. "You have my sympathies."

Kanda – who had previously been scanning the room – turned, drawing Mugen in that very same motion and pointing it at his jugular, keeping the posture while watching him through narrowed eyes. "I don't need your sympathies."

Despite being at sword point, Lavi breathed a sigh of relief. The usual Kanda was back.

No longer fearing the repercussions, he instead set about to investigate, his mismatched eyes searching every nook and canny they could reach.

"What are you looking for anyway?" he heard Kanda say, but he did not turn, focusing entirely on zeroing in on the main focus of what had – wittingly or unwittingly – led them there, calling out to them from some point in the house.

"Clues," he finally responded, approaching the wall at the other end of the room, laying his hand onto a painting which hung there, running his fingertips alongside the frame of it. "This…" he began, turning around to scan the room once more, looking for something emitting a certain type of feeling or aura which would be visible to his eyes. "And something else too…"

Then, he turned back to the painting, considering it momentarily before finally reaching up to lift it from the wall, depositing of it carefully onto a nearby desk. "Have a look at this."

Kanda moved to have a look, his eyes widening momentarily before narrowing, all while Lavi whipped out his cell phone to snap a picture of it. "I think I've seen those ruins somewhere…"

"Never mind that, I've sent a photograph of it to Komui," Lavi responded, sliding the phone right back into his pocket, studying the painting ever so thoughtfully. "There's something else about it though… something more…"

"There's a note on the back of it," Kanda flatly informed him.

Lavi blinked. "A note?" he wondered out loud, moving to flip the thing over so that he could see for himself. "This is... a sketch of a sealing maze?"

"Let me see." Kanda moved closer; to the extent that he was nearly shoving him aside before leaning down to study it more closely. "These signs…"

Lavi kicked up an eyebrow in response, genuinely surprised. "You've seen them before?"

The other didn't look up. "In Komui's office, sorting through his papers, I found an envelope…"

"An envelope?" Lavi echoed. "To whom?"

"Komui."

"From whom?"

Kanda snorted. "Who knows?"

"Where's that envelope now?" Lavi asked, genuinely curious and partially apprehensive as to when and how the Order could possibly have attained such information, and from whom.

"It, along with its contents, was snatched," Kanda responded, his voice laced with conflicting emotions.

The seriousness of the situation aside, Lavi found himself intrigued. "By whom?"

He moved to snap a picture of the note at the back of the painting, focusing on the task to such an extent that the other's reply – when it finally came – took him completely by surprise.

"Alma Karma."

**- o0o -**

They had barely even made it out the gates before they received intelligence that one Timothy Hearst – a previously comatose boy loosely affiliated with Road Camelot – had unexpectedly disappeared from the hospital he had been admitted to, like many others before him. This time around however, he had been caught on film by a local surveillance feed, on which he had not only been caught leaving but also caught entering a car which proved eerily similar – even identical – to one which had been caught on a surveillance feed recently retrieved – one surveying the outskirts of the grounds of the mansion they had just rummaged, having exited it richer on information but much poorer in terms of time.

Said surveillance feed showed said mansion's various inhabitants leaving it, entering either of the cars that had been brought forth, and the last ones that had exited were both very familiar to them, even though one of said individuals – at least judging from the surveillance feed – seemed to have deteriorated rather quickly. Then again, they had had little time to process it since Komui had contacted them, giving them directions to give chase.

Already breathless – on Lavi's end at least, given that Kanda barely even seemed to have broken out into a sweat – they had made it to the train station and made it onto a train headed north, flashing their special ID cards to a few startled train conductors before commandeering seats for themselves in a reasonably secluded part of the train right before it left the station.

"Geez, let me tell you this, Yu…" Lavi said, positively wheezing. "If you didn't have to carry that bloody sword of yours around, we could have flown there and arrived within hours, instead of spending hours upon hours going there by train and…"

"The Order has already managed to confirm that neither any direct members of the Noah family nor any of its known associates has booked any flights – neither domestic nor international – and that they are currently travelling by car." Kanda cut him off, rather offhandedly while still retaining a distinctly professional attitude.

Lavi looked at him momentarily before letting out an amused snort. "Point taken," he finally said, folding his arms across his chest.

"Also," Kanda cut in a moment or so later, retaining the aforementioned attitude. "With the seemingly meticulous preparations they have gone through as of late, it wouldn't be strange if they had their minions monitoring the airway traffic."

"True, I suppose," Lavi readily admitted, leaning back into his seat. "I mean, who knows how many people they've got working for them, possessed or not."

Kanda's overall expression did not change. "Too many, no doubt."

"So," Lavi unfolded his arms and pulled out his cell phone, messing around with it until a map popped up, allowing him to start mapping out their intended route. "We'll go to Glasgow by train, and from there on, we'll…" – His phone buzzed – "A text. From Komui," he said, frowning slightly as he studied the message. "Apparently, there'll be someone meeting us at the station…"

Kanda's facial expression still remained virtually the same aside from a slight narrowing of the eyes, a sign of dismay. "Black Order personnel?"

Lavi tilted his head slightly to the side, still studying the message. "I don't… think so?"

The other shifted slightly. "Then who?"

"Some associate of Komui, I think," Lavi responded.

"You think?" the other echoed somewhat disdainfully, and he shrugged mildly in return before scratching his head thoughtfully, mumbling to himself.

"Bak Chan, Bak Chan… I feel like I've heard it from somewhere…"

"Bak Chan," Kanda said, voice devoid of emotion. "Male, age 30, blood type A. Nationality: Chinese."

Lavi looked up at the other in surprise. "Yu, do I even want to know why you can recite said individuals personal information right off the bat?"

"He is the descendant of a famous German occultist," the other snorted, as if said piece of information was common knowledge, which it probably was, seeing that the name did seem rather familiar.

"Famous German occultist… and he's Chinese?" Lavi jokingly questioned, aiming to bait the other into revealing more information. After all, why try consulting an online search engine when there was a possible source of reasonably accurate information right in front of him.

"He's also the sole surviving member of the Chang Family." Kanda just snorted at him. "Imbecile."

Okay, so maybe Lavi did deserve to be called an idiot. He sagged slightly in his seat. "They were in the Asian Branch of the Order, weren't they?"

"Yes."

"But he's a freelancer?" he said, finally recalling the fact that he had actually not only heard of the man in question; he had even attended a bloody seminar with the guy, god damn it!

"He supposedly cut his ties with the Order following the death of his parents, leaving for Japan and then for America, changing his name in the process," Kanda explained.

"Hoh?" Lavi said. "You know him personally or something?"

The other shot him a look before snorting, leaning back into his seat, pulling out his cell phone. "He had Mugen restored for me."

Lavi's eyebrow climbed even higher. "He was your teacher?"

Kanda – seemingly in the midst of texting someone – paused briefly. "My family… used to look after a temple, a Shinto shrine in Kyoto," he finally admitted. "He came there when I was eight, and stayed until I was ten…"

Lavi's eyes widened comically at such a mindboggling revelation. "Wait… You have family?"

The other just snorted at him, continuing to text. "Idiot. Of course I have a family; I'm not _Momotar__ō_…"

"Ehm… You just lost me. Momo-what now?"

Dark eyes looked up from the cell phone display, levelling on him for a brief moment before once again returning to whatever the other was doing on his phone. "I'm not going to get into a discussion about Japanese folklore with you."

"Aw… And here I thought we would be able to have a meaningful discussion…"

If looks could kill, then the one Kanda sent him would most definitely have been fatal.

"So, anyways, this Bak Chan guy…" Lavi said, adjusting his headband. "An occultist, you said?"

The other just continued to text. "Yes."

"As in an occultist in general or as in an actual sorcerer?"

The other still did not look up, even while responding. "As in both…"

"Whoa. That's… kind of cool actually."

Dark eyes levelled on him once again. "Under these circumstances, is that all you've got to say?"

"Well… what can I say? I haven't met the guy in question yet, but I am a sucker for sorcery, and Bookman keeps refusing to teach me." He laughed a bit awkwardly, putting his phone away. "And yeah, I know that you can find plenty of stuff on the net as well as in a few other places, but really, that stuff is nothing compared to what can be learned from a real master of the craft. I mean, reading about stuff is fine as a pastime, but actually witnessing them at work… now that's something else."

Kanda actually pulled a face. "Stupid or not, you are aware of the Order's history with the Catholic Church, right?"

Lavi let out an exasperated and somewhat melodramatic sigh. "Who isn't? However, the time of the Church burning heretics at the stake has since long passed, so I see little reason to be worried…" he said, pausing momentarily before continuing. "But you disapprove, I take it?" he swiftly added, actually having the gall to wink, and earning himself a scoff while at it.

"What you do or don't do is your own problem, as long as you don't let it get in my way," the other drawled.

"Cold, Yu, really cold of you," he retorted.

The other gave a noticeable twitch. "Don't use that name," he said, a hint of a growl to his voice.

"Why?" Lavi openly challenged, knowing well that the other was extremely unlikely to resort to physical violence on a moving train.

The other's facial expression darkened noticeably. "It's not yours to use."

Point taken. "Fine. How about… Kanda-_chan_?"

The other's facial expression remained perfectly neutral. "Do you want to die?"

Okay, so maybe Kanda Yu could be prompted to resort to physical violence on a moving train. Bugger.

"Do I want to die?" Lavi asked rhetorically, shrugging mildly. "Eventually yes, preferably before I get all old, wrinkly and bald. However, if you kill me…" he went on, a fake grin spreading across his face as he leaned forward, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'll make sure to turn up and haunt you and your family for a thousand generations."

He earned a snort in response, though it was more one out amusement rather than disdain. "Wouldn't you have anything better to do?"

Again, point taken, leaving a score of 2-0 to Kanda Yu.

"_A-ah…"_ he thought, leaning back into his seat and looking out at the darkening skies on the outsides, watching specks of rain land on the pane of the windows, running to one side before being blown away completely as the train continued to rush forward, headed north. _"At this rate, I'll lose the game…"_

He chanced a glance in Kanda's direction, noticing that the latter had adjusted his posture, sitting with his arms folded and his eyes closed, inhaling and exhaling deeply at regular intervals. "Hey, Kanda. Kanda. Kanda. Yu. Yu. Kanda Yu."

The other did not even twitch, continuing to breathe just as regularly, by all means the image of a person who was either in a state of deep sleep or in meditation. What a novel concept. "Yu, are you sleeping?"

Silence.

Lavi's eyebrow climbed even higher. Then, speechlessness gave way to mischievousness and he discreetly reached into one of his pockets to retrieve a marker – his most faithful servant and partner in crime – trying to be as quiet as possible.

However, to his great disappointment, the other seemed to have foreseen this course of action.

"If you so much as attempt to doodle on my face, I will kill you and make it look like an accident," Kanda said, keeping his eyes closed. "Painfully," he finally added, all while Lavi sighed disappointedly, all while the train continued heading north.

**- o0o -**


	11. Twilight

_In which Lavi develops a strange fascination. _

_Sometimes, I do wonder whether or not I should ask for a refund on my imagination. Oh well._

**- o0o -**

**Twilight**

**- o0o -**

"Say, Kanda, you know the law of conservation of energy, right?"

They were still on the train and had been for what seemed to be quite a while, but some time still remained of their journey. Kanda Yu – his ever so disgruntled-looking companion – shot him an irritated glance, retaining it only briefly before looking down again, continuing to do whatever he had been doing on his phone. Lavi briefly entertained the thought of the other playing some random game in an attempt to keep himself occupied so that he – Lavi – would hopefully be discouraged from starting up random conversations to either simply pass the time or to pry into matters that were really none of his business; he certainly entertained the thought quite a bit – and found that quite a few of his imagined scenarios managed to entertain him in return – but he did not inquire into the matter, seeing to the fact that there were so many other – and hopefully far more relevant – things to ponder at such a time.

"_Energy cannot be created or destroyed. It can only change from one form to another_, was it?" Kanda eventually responded – sounding positively bored – having at some point put his phone away in favour of pulling out a small but certainly thick book of something Lavi – without taking a closer look at the item in question – could only assume was some kind of scripture.

Truly – a textbook answer.

Lavi found that a grin – an actual one rather than an artificial one – threatened to break out on his face as he shoved another spoonful of chocolate ice-cream into his own mouth, savoring the sweetness of it. "Yep."

Dark eyes lifted their gaze momentarily, leveling on him for only a brief moment – narrowing briefly for a fraction of a second to show the other's seeming disapproval at his most recent choice of nutrition, no doubt finding it rather inappropriate – before once again lowering them to the book in his hands, turning the page. "What about it?"

"Say," Lavi said, swallowing his most recent spoonful before swiftly getting himself another. "Have you ever thought much about at least pseudoscientific ways of explaining the supernatural?"

The other did not look up, but a slight furrowing of the other's eyebrows indicated that Lavi was well on his way to earning himself an irritated "Stop-bothering-me" look. "Electromagnetic waves, heat energy, ectoplasm, PK…" Kanda then recited right off the bat, turning the page once again.

Whoa. "Someone's done their homework…"

"For someone in our profession, not knowing would be… unadvisable," Kanda responded, not even sparing him a second glance.

"Hoh?" Lavi said, swallowing another mouthful. "And here I thought you were more of a hands-on type of person…"

The other just snorted. "Moron."

Really? And here he was only trying to strike up a decent conversation they could both take part in…

"Anyways," he continued, using his spoon to scrape the bottom of his nearly empty ice-cream pail. "As you should know, this energy stuff is said to be more prevalent under certain conditions, when a person is in an altered state of consciousness for example…"

"Like a trance," the other cut him off, still not looking up.

"Yeah, or when they're ill, sleeping or meditating or something. I mean, I could technically throw in a theory about brain chemistry here, but I'm not an expert so let's not go there…"

"Then don't mention it, Idiot."

Burn. Kanda-Lavi, 3-0.

Lavi – having scraped up what little ice-cream remained at the bottom of his ice-cream pail – sighed exasperatedly, shoving his last spoonful into his mouth and keeping the spoon there even after what remained of the ice-cream had trickled down his throat, resuming a bad habit of his – one Bookman had for some reason found extremely annoying and sought to put an end to – namely chewing at random inanimate items – often made out of either wood or plastic or metals, such as pencils, plastic spoons and kitchen utensils – located in his immediate vicinity. "Yeah, yeah… Anyways, about Allen…"

"What about _Moyashi_?" Kanda bit right back, a hint of a snarl to his voice.

Lavi paused momentarily, studying the miniscule changes in the other's facial expression all while chewing thoughtfully at the aforementioned plastic spoon. "You… saw the footage, didn't you?"

The look the other shot him was heated, in a very – very, very, very, very – unfriendly and by no means passionate way. "He's been taken by _them_, and we're going after them to stop them. So what?"

"Did you notice?" Lavi quipped. "The footage was pretty low quality, but he did seem conscious at the time; conscious, but weakened."

"That neighbor of his carried him," Kanda affirmed, sneering.

"Yes," Lavi affirmed, pulling the spoon from his mouth and twirling it between his fingertips. "But why?"

"Weakened, as you say," the other moved on to comment, by no means interested in delving into the matter any further from the sound of it.

"Yes," Lavi affirmed once more, continuing to twirl the spoon between his fingertips. "But _why_?"

The other did not respond, but Lavi promptly took the fleeting look sent his way as a silent – albeit reluctant – invitation to continue speaking. "In your report, you mentioned that you had an encounter with him down in the catacombs, right?" he asked, sticking the spoon right back into his mouth so that he could continue to chew on it. "Was there anything in particular that stood out about it?"

Kanda – once again seemingly submerged in a no doubt quite dull choice of literature – turned another page. "There was a dark presence moving about," he finally said. "One… no, two. The second one arrived later, right before he vanished."

Lavi kicked up an eyebrow in response, seeing that the latter piece of info sure as Hell hadn't been featured in the other's report of the event. "Are you sure?"

The other shot him an irritated look. "You know as well as I do that the place was flooded, both with regular spirits and outright entities. However, down there, the spirits were acting strange…" he said, turning another page. "Normally, spirits tend to follow him around – they tend to flock around him or follow him around at a distance – but down there, they didn't."

"They fled?" – Lavi's raised eyebrow climbed even higher, but at the other's brief affirmative it lowered instead, joining his other eyebrow in a slight frown – "Did his presence feel any different?"

"Perhaps," Kanda retorted, turning yet another page, leaving Lavi wondering whether or not the other actually read the thing or was just pretending. "But not much."

"But you said there was this shadow lurking around him, right?" Lavi inquired, earning a small shrug in return.

"I never saw the thing; I just sensed it."

Lavi's frown deepened slightly, and he shifted the spoon from one side of his mouth to the other before biting down on it once again, trying to process this new piece of information and if possible figure out how it fit in with the rest of the pieces on the figurative board of the figurative puzzle he had yet to solve. "And after that, Allen disappeared, only to reappear days later, visibly weakened, being whisked off to god knows where..."

Kanda cut him off. "You think it possessed him?"

"It's not impossible…" – He shifted the spoon once more. – "But somehow, I don't think that's the case…"

Kanda finally slammed his book shut, seemingly abandoning all pretences of actually reading it. "What's your basis?"

Lavi just continued chewing at the spoon, silently wishing he had some piece of gum to chew on instead. "It's just a feeling."

"A feeling?" the other sneered, putting the book away.

Lavi removed the spoon from his mouth, shooting a positively shit-eating grin off in the other's general direction. "Call it intuition if you like, but I have a feeling."

"You have a feeling?" the other repeated even more disdainfully.

Really, how was one supposed to answer to that? "Well, yeah…"

For a brief moment, there was silence. Then, Kanda snorted, leaning further back into his seat while folding his arms across his chest. "I suppose it's as good as anything at this rate. After all, it did give us the location…" he said, referring to the motive of the painting Lavi had picked out, one Komui had soon confirmed as a probable destination for the people they were chasing.

"Still…" Lavi found himself saying, studying the bite marks on the spoon. "It's creepy."

"How so?"

How indeed?

He took a deep breath, before once again focusing his attention on the spoon, trying to block out his surroundings temporarily – which proved quite a hassle, seeing that he was still onboard a moving train. "It's creepy," he finally said. "The thought of using such an old monument for such a purpose…" – he paused briefly, not quite sure as to how to continue – "I don't know, but it seems kind of sacrilegious to me, for real, even though I'm able to see the practicality of it, seeing that sites like those are already brimming with remaining energies from all the rituals and all, but… it still rubs me the wrong way, somehow…" – he paused yet again to regain his breath and to collect his thoughts – "Black magic rituals… the power of human sacrifice… it's just…"

"Blood sacrifices have existed in virtually every single culture since ancient times," Kanda sneered. "Get over yourself."

"I know!" Lavi responded, frustration creeping up on him. "And I bloody well get it too! The greater the sacrifice, the greater the gain, and so on and so forth and all that. Pricey as Hell considering the possible repercussions, but bloody Hell efficient nonetheless. I've always been fascinated by magic – regardless of color. However, offering up a child as a sacrifice?"

"Timothy Hearst."

"Yes, yes, Timothy Hearst," Lavi affirmed, halfway between feeling sick to his stomach and feeling cynically cheerful before finally opting for the latter. "I can hardly imagine any other reason to bring him along," he quipped, once again twirling the spoon between his fingertips. "Then again, if things ultimately don't work out with Allen, Timothy Hearst can be presumed to be their Plan B."

The other regarded him coldly. "Explain."

Well, that was certainly easier said than done.

Lavi sighed exasperatedly. "Well… I'll give it a try."

He found himself studying the plastic spoon again, for some reason marveling at how red and artificial – yet solid – it was. "In general, children are pure," he said. "However, that purity also had a tendency of making them highly impressionable and thus vulnerable to outer influences, leaving them easily corrupted by them. Thus, demonic entities – summoned into the world of the living by whomever – are more often than not drawn towards them – just like regular spirits – drawn in by their relative spiritual sensitivity as well as by the magnitude of their emotions."

"In addition," he went on, still studying the spoon all while marveling at how sturdy it seemed to be with it having persevered throughout his latest chewing spree. "Children have a tendency of being more sensitive and perceptive than their grownup counterparts, and generally have a much weaker defense against them than the average adult. Then again, of course there are exceptions; of course there are numerous cases of weak-minded adults falling prey to regular spirits and demonic entities alike, but if the case in any way involves children, the latter generally suffer the brunt of it, either at the hands of the entity itself or at the hands of the person either influenced or possessed by it… since, as you should already be well aware, spirits and demonic entities for that matter – while certainly possessing a fair amount of energy of their own also harbor a kind of primal instinct – to feed upon the energies surrounding them, the energy harbored both within the location itself as well as within inanimate things and beings, both living and dead…"

Kanda said nothing initially. Then, he snorted. "What about it, moron?"

**- o0o -**

_There were voices – whispers._

_He was in a dark place, in a place largely devoid of light._

_The darkness; it was certainly dreadful in itself – suffocating – yet strangely comforting in a way, enveloping him like a thick dark blanket._

_If not for the voices and the perceived solitude, the place would have been perfect._

"_Earl… we need to stop this," one voice said, tone teetering on the edge between disapproval and deep regret._

"_Stop what, Tyki-pet?" another voice responded, tone containing a warning._

_The first voice returned, speaking rapidly and seemingly detachedly, as if attempting to keep up a feigned pretence of neutrality in a matter of great concern to its owner. "We're going to need him to be at least reasonably lucid for the ritual. If we add anything more to his system, he might not snap out of it this time around…"_

_The second voice retaliated quickly, snapping. "Need I remind you of your place, Joyd?"_

_For a while, silence reigned, and during that while, he found himself wondering whether or not there would actually be a response – a continuation of some sort._

_Then, the first voice finally returned; calm, controlled, and largely devoid of warmth. "Look, Lord Adam… I didn't know Neah Walker, but I do know Allen…"_

"_That's you," a third voice, followed by a myriad of other smaller ones. "They're talking about you, 'Allen'…"_

"_I can hear that," he responded calmly with a hint of bitterness lacing his voice, wondering whether or not he would be heard; whether or not there would be a point in doing so. "They're discussing whether or not to pump anymore drugs into my systems to keep me down and out of it…"_

_As if confirming his statement, the first voice spoke up again. "He's barely in any condition to walk; you don't honestly expect him to attempt to run, do you?"_

"_Your perceived knowledge of the boy's character has blinded you to his true capabilities," the second voice snapped. "You're letting your guard down…"_

"_Yeah right," Allen drawled right back at them, knowing well that his voice would reach neither. "Just have a look at how bloody dangerous I am; I am bloody caught in a sea of dark oblivion, unable to manage even my own life and limbs because I foolishly entrusted them both to people whose view of my own best interests doesn't bloody agree with me at all!"_

_The other voices – voices three to ten according to his own rough estimate – tittle-tattled. For some reason – possibly due to his own rapidly building frustration at having been caught like he had been – he snapped at them, telling them to shut up. They did, going all hush-hush as they scurried away from him and into the unknown, leaving him to wonder just how vast this realm of darkness was; just how deep this realm of insanity went. It was laughable, truly._

"_In the beginning, God created heaven and earth," he went on, quoting scripture from memory, pretty sure he got a few parts of it wrong along the way, seeing that he was not – not usually at least – a person to read and much less recite scripture, even during the darkest of times. Now however, quoting the Book of Genesis seemed strangely appropriate, considering the context. "And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep... and the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters…"_

_The sound of waves crashing against the shore reached his ears; he wondered if he was imagining things again._

"_And God said, Let there be light…" he went on, looking but not really seeing, since his surroundings consisted entirely of sounds and darkness. "And there was light…"_

_There wasn't, and neither would there be. It was a pointless activity to recite scripture, because more often than not, higher powers turned a blind eye to it. It really wouldn't make sense to rely on such a whimsical entity, putting one's fate in the hands of God and whatnot. As a matter of fact – as far as he himself was concerned at any rate – it made more sense to be reciting whichever gibberish one could recall seeing that words by themselves were meaningless; it was up to the speaker to infuse them with power and to give them meaning. Because of this, there were times when the source of the material was entirely irrelevant. However, while the words on their own lacked greater impact – to him at any rate, not to offhandedly reject the beliefs of others – they still held power in that they were well-known and solid, and to a great extent also acknowledged by both living and dead, ghosts and spirits, and their notoriety amongst the aforementioned did – at least usually – guarantee some sort of effect. Then again, he had not quite looked into the matter all that closely, had he?_

"_And God said, Let there be light," he said, raising his eyes as if to look up at an imaginary sky. "And God saw the light, and it was good… and God divided the light from the darkness…"_

"_Fiat lux," he went on. "Let there be light."_

_There was none._

_He felt like laughing, all while he felt like crying out and wreaking havoc._

_Instead of light, he heard the first voice again._

"_Perhaps. However, I'd say you're too paranoid. At this rate – regardless of your intentions – you may end up killing him…"_

"_Why would you care?" he drawled right back at it. "You bloody well allowed him to do it in the first pla-…" – he cut himself off suddenly, hit with something he could not quite identify._

_Then, he felt his own body again – briefly – just long enough to feel himself convulse._

"_See, he's rejecting it," the first voice drawled, impatient. "Now would you rather listen to me or have him be sick all over the backseat?"_

_Silence._

_He felt quietly humiliated._

"_There's a driveway up front," the second voice finally said, addressing another. "Go there and make sure the house's inhabitants aren't a problem anymore."_

"_Define 'not being a problem'", a fourth voice requested, teetering on the edge of boredom and eagerness to please._

_The answer was swift, delivered without the least of hesitation. "Kill them."_

**- o0o -**

Momentarily horrified, Allen snapped right back into a state of awareness, his body convulsing once more.

Yet, the next thing he knew, he was on his knees on a tiled floor, retching into a toilet bowl while a seemingly concerned shadow hovered over him, holding his hair back.

"Are you feeling alright?" Tyki – the owner of the first voice – asked him as he spit out another mouthful of disgusting bile mixed up with blood and whatnot.

He really wished he could snort, but did not, seeing that he had a feeling he would start retching again if he did. Was he feeling alright? Really, his own state of misery should have made that bloody self-evident.

Receiving no answer, Tyki promptly tried again, stroking his back in a gesture meant to comfort and reassure. Allen wished he could flinch. "Are you feeling better than you did about a minute ago?"

Yes, and no.

He still did not answer, pushing himself away from the toilet and allowing his body to sag against a nearby bathtub all while he looked blearily at his surroundings, the latter of which were certainly none he had previously laid eyes on. "This place…"

"Is a random roadside house of a reasonable size reasonably secluded from any prying neighbors," Tyki finished for him, turning his head slightly as if listening for some distant sound. "Turns out there is local vicar living here with his wife…" – he paused briefly, just as there was a sound of muffled screaming and ruckus somewhere on the outside – "…And someone decided to have a little fun while waiting for me to fix you up…"

A familiar hand reached for his face. He smacked it away without a second thought, glaring up at the other. "Don't touch me," he croaked, and the other actually backed off, holding their hands up.

"I take it someone's woken up on the wrong side of the bed," the other said, and though tired, he found himself bristling.

"I've woken up in the wrong end of the country!" he hissed, trying to keep from wincing, seeing that he now realized that his throat hurt a whole lot, then again, as did a whole lot of other things in his body.

"In a manner of speaking…" Tyki responded somewhat evasively, turning his head to the side, seemingly listening for whatever was going on – besides the obvious – in the rest of the house. "As for the question of going back, it'll have to be a no can do, I'm afraid… and once the others feel like they're done out there, we'll continue heading north, so I suggest that you finish any business…" the other trailed off slightly, but Allen – understanding the pointer – made a slight grimace, shooting the other a quite obvious look of disapproval.

"I could use a shower…" he began, his look of disapproval gradually becoming more and more pointed.

"I suppose…" Tyki said, sounding equally thoughtful. "Then again…" – Predatory amber-colored eyes came to rest upon him, studying him intently. – "I for one am under specific orders not to take my eyes off you."

Allen's facial expression darkened noticeably, but he remained where he was for several moments, staring stubbornly into the face of danger and defeat, saying nothing. Then – in spite of his own physical weakness, dodgy perception and general disadvantage – he threw himself at Tyki, briefly surprising the latter, allowing him to briefly – for just a fleeting moment – overpower the other, delivering a swift but hard blow to the back of the other's head before making a mad scramble for the small window in the room – just big enough for him to possibly squeeze through, should he be able to open it in time – but his fingertips had only just brushed against the handle of it when familiar fingers wrapped tightly around his ankle, and the sharp tug that followed sent him crashing to the floor, slightly winded from hitting his head on the edge of the bathtub, but he still fought on furiously – using energy he didn't have – even as the other forced him onto his back on the floor, keeping him there with his body weight while simultaneously keeping a firm grip on both of his wrists, keeping them firmly pressed against the tiled floor just above his head, silencing a both pained and surprised yelp with his lips and keeping them there, leaving Allen to breathe sharply and shallowly through his nose before finally unsealing them, still keeping him trapped against the floor. "Yield?"

"Tyki!" Allen hissed, still winded from both the fight as well as from the blow to the head. "I swear to God-…"

Tyki cut him off, an oddly intense look in his eyes. "There is no god," he whispered as he leaned down, nuzzling the crook of his neck while Allen made one last futile effort to escape from the other's clutches before temporarily ceasing his struggles, giving in and lying still on the floor, cool tiles against his back. He said nothing; he was far too exhausted to speak. "And miracles? Either, there are no miracles or everything is a miracle. What is and what is not a miracle is a question of personal belief."

His hair was disheveled, sweat covering his brow. His eyes slid shut, his head rolling limply to one side. The blow to the head had been worse than expected, leaving him more affected than he had initially anticipated, in a state near unconsciousness, either partially or fully robbing him of most of his senses, surprisingly enough leaving most of his hearing intact.

"The human psyche is a wonderful thing with a great deal of potential. So much potential, so often wasted on the mundane…" he heard Tyki say, feeling the other's hot breath against his bared throat. "God created man in his own image, they say, even though it was truly man that created God, carrying all the flaws imposed upon him by those who were supposedly created in his image. Jealous, selfish… supposedly merciful and loving and all, yet so vengeful…" – The other paused briefly, and Allen felt how the other shifted his position slightly. – "_Thou shall hath no other gods_ or something, wasn't it?"

He felt his eyebrows furrow slightly, halfway involuntarily, all while Tyki continued speaking, rambling from the sound of it. "In ancient times – before the current major religions spread like wildfires around the world – most worshipped whole pantheons of gods and other spirits. And that, now that's where the interesting part comes in… I mean… Demons? In the end, what are demons? If malevolent spirits are demons, are benevolent ones angels?"

There were no angels; of that, Allen was pretty sure.

"Faith," Tyki went on. "Faith has the potential to be a powerful weapon, seeing that believing in something makes it stronger…"

_Faith…?_

"Humans – whether wittingly or unwittingly – created their own gods, believing there was something greater out there, something greater that required tributes…"

_Sacrifices…_

"Their belief gave birth to entities, entities that gradually grew stronger or weakened depending on the amount of faith which was put into them…"

"After all, without believers – without _worshipers_ – Gods cannot exist…"

"Thus, they weaken, and either disappear or take on new incarnations… seeking alternative ways to nourish themselves, because to them, faith is sustenance…"

_Sustenance…?_

He forced his eyes open, blearily.

"Now…" Tyki went on, pausing slightly. "The million pound question…"

_Question…?_

"What do you think happened to the old gods?"

The still spinning world came to a sudden halt, and he snapped his eyes wide open, sucking in a sharp breath.

**- o0o -**

"Having been abandoned for the new faith, the old gods…" – There was a brief pause, followed by a slight snicker. – "Well, some of them, at any rate… grew bitter and some even got vengeful, vowing to have their revenge on the ungrateful humans that had once brought them into existence and then left them to perish…"

The other's weight shifted once more before disappearing altogether, but he did not have the energy to get back up and rolled onto his side instead, focused simply on breathing and on not vomiting all while the other continued to hover over him.

"Not harboring some sort of grudge would be weird, especially so once the clergymen of that newer more fanciful god – the supposed one and only, you know – started going around banishing us to the spirit world…"

_Exorcists…_

"But…" Allen found himself whispering, remaining where he was on the floor, curling up into a nearly fetal position. "To do this kind of thing…"

"Revenge against the living means nothing to me," Tyki readily admitted, crouching next to him. "Like you, I only want to live my life as I please…"

"Tyki…" He fully realized that it was a pathetic attempt even before he had initiated it. "It doesn't have to be this way…"

Pleading was pointless; the act was supposedly beneath him, and when it came to Tyki Mikk, reasoning generally worked better than pleading. "Even if your demonic self is bound to serve the Earl, your human self is not… That's…"

If only things were that easy…

He reached out somewhat half-heartedly, and his hand was captured in a gentle grip before being brought up to the other's lips. "Ugh…"

The other shushed him. "It's okay… it's going to be okay… You'll feel better once this is over…"

Allen found himself wanting to slap him – hard, right across the face, preferably repeatedly – before flooring him with a punch and jumping and stomping on his head. It was a new and foreign notion, but for some reason, lying on a cold tiled floor like he was, he found that the appeal of it only increased. "I'm going to kill you," he heard himself promise, spitting the words out like a curse.

Tyki on the other hand only snickered. "I'm looking forward to it," he then said, getting up and taking the few strides necessary to reach the door. "Now clean yourself up; I'll be waiting outside," he went on, stepping right through the door. "Skin's guarding the outdoor premises, so don't escape…"

Allen – having managed to prop his back up against the side of the bathtub – just narrowed his eyes in response.

**- o0o -**


	12. Legion

_My Inner Editor keeps telling me I need up make up my mind on whether to go for humour or horror. It's a valid point, I have to admit as much, but even so I have a hard time dealing with absolutes. So, let's make this chapter more humorous and light-hearted and the next the complete opposite. Does it sound like a plan?_

**- o0o -**

**Legion**

**- o0o -**

Upon reaching their intended station in Glasgow, they were greeted by a face familiar to them both, namely the face of a famous occultist and lecturing academic, the latter of whom greeted them with a strange kind of delighted politeness and seeming familiarity. "Ah, Kanda Yu, isn't it? You've… grown."

In case Kanda's admission to having last seen the man at the age of ten was accurate, the aforementioned comment was ludicrous and quite an understatement. Speaking of which…

Kanda took a slight step forward, greeting the other with a slight bow before taking a step to the side. "Bak Chan, meet Idiot," he began, slight hand gestures accompanying his words. "Idiot, meet Bak Chan."

"Idiot?" Well versed in Kanda-lingua as he was, Lavi just smiled sheepishly at the man, who in return did not seem to recognize him – which wasn't all that strange, all things considered – and instead looked from him to Kanda, a look of mild displeasure gracing his features. "Yu… What kind of manners are that?" the man finally said, every bit the admonishing teacher while the latter just snorted.

"The kind that are none of your business."

Truly.

"Okay, fine." – The most recent addition to their party let out an exasperated sigh before clapping his hands a couple of times in a show of seeming impatience as he strode forward, seemingly headed for the exit – "We're on a tight schedule, aren't we? I have a car waiting for us outside, so we'll go through the details in the car…" – The other paused briefly, turning around to face them with an almost eager look about him – "Now, you're both of age, aren't you?"

Lavi kicked up an eyebrow in mystification, exchanging a brief look with Kanda before they both answered, speaking up simultaneously. "Yes."

The blond man scratched the back of his head, smiling a bit sheepishly. "Any driving volunteers?"

**- o0o -**

"Ah, sorry about that," Bak said from his position in the backseat as they drove away from the station. "Left-hand traffic still doesn't quite agree with me."

Kanda on his end – the designated driver, courtesy of Lavi pleading unreliability due to visual impairment – muttered something sounding suspiciously much like _"Bloody well can't navigate to save his own life"_. Lavi – also in the backseat after swiftly having been banished from the front seat courtesy of Kanda simply _refusing_ to drive with him sitting there – found himself rather tempted to burst out laughing. However, the bubbling desire to laugh dissipated quickly as a discerning look was sent his way, followed by a swiftly delivered inquiry. "So yeah, Lavi was it?" – Lavi found himself nodding numbly at this – "Komui was a bit sketchy on the details, so would you care to fill me in?"

"Ehm…" – Kanda shot him a look in the rear-view mirror, narrowing his eyes – "Sure?"

Man, he sure had his work cut out for him.

Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out a small laptop – Order-issued, getting old – opening the lid and turning it on. "Komui and the others are busy with a major operation in the London area, so we're pretty much on our own on this," he explained whilst logging himself into the system. "Our objective is to get to-…"

Before he was even able to finish his statement, Kanda let out an irritated snort, pulling something out of his own pocket while steering left, throwing said item into the middle of the backseat where it was immediately snatched by Bak Chan, who went on to study said object – a small notebook from the looks of it – with a great deal of interest. "Hoh, I see… the Hebrides, huh? I haven't visited them yet…"

Lavi wasn't all too sure as to how he felt about that. "Hey, hey, this isn't the time for sightseeing…" he began, but the other cut him off before he could continue – _"I am nevertheless intrigued. So, what exactly are we doing in the Hebrides?"_ – leaving him to stare dumbly at the aforementioned, momentarily dumbfounded. "Komui… really didn't fill you in on much, did he?" he finally tried and the other just shrugged in response, sighing somewhat melodramatically.

"All in all, he basically sent a request for my awesome services, and told me to meet up with you in Glasgow," Bak Chan revealed, leaning back into his seat as Kanda took another sharp turn to the left. "So…" – He threw him a somewhat conspiratorial look – "Fill me in."

Lavi – finally having accessed his files – turned the computer slightly, showing off the picture on the screen, taking silent note of how the other's eyes widened in seeming recognition, and when the other reached for the laptop, Lavi let go of it, allowing the other to take and reposition it to study the files more intently, leaving Lavi – suddenly devoid of his computer – to reach into his pocket for his phone, fiddling with it whilst the other continued browsing through the files.

"This… is Allen Walker, isn't it?" Bak finally said, once again looking at a picture of the aforementioned teen, right next to the compiled file of the aforementioned.

Lavi paused momentarily, in the middle of texting the old man. "You know him?" It really wasn't a question, seeing that the other's obvious recognition of the teen's face had spoken for itself, but it was still procedure, and it was also a splendid opportunity to find out how come.

The other looked mildly thoughtful, still browsing through the file. "A couple of weeks ago, in Edinburgh, we coincidentally had an encounter, and spent the night together at a hotel…" – Lavi's eyes – both of them – grew wide in disbelief, and from the way the car cringed momentarily, he wasn't the only one – "And that part came out way differently from what I had intended…" Bak finished, no doubt having noticed their reactions. "Hey, don't give me those looks," he finally said when their glares still did not let up, apparently trying to explain himself. "He looked tired and a bit roughed up, so I invited him in to hear his story and to make sure he was alright and all…"

Roughed up?

Lavi opened his mouth to inquire into the matter, but surprisingly, Kanda beat him to it. "He looked roughed up?"

Bak shrugged mildly in response. "We met at Greyfriars," he said, as if that would explain everything. It did.

"The MacKenzie Poltergeist," Kanda shortly responded, keeping his eyes firmly on the road as they drove through another intersection, headed out of the city.

"Yes." Bak continued studying the files on the screen before him with seeming interest. "Nevertheless, beyond looking tired and a bit roughed up, he seemed wary, yet seemingly resigned to one thing or the other…"

"Resigned?" Kanda repeated, keeping his tone short and devoid of unneeded emotions. "Why did you not inform the Order?"

"Why would I have?" Bak enquired, his eyes still not leaving the screen. "I didn't know you people were looking for him."

Fair point.

"Even so," he went on. "He realized what I was, claiming he'd sensed the seal on my hand when we had shaken hands…" – He showed off the aforementioned hand, which in Lavi's eyes positively oozed of power – "Obviously, I introduced myself and told him I was an American university student – because really, you never get too old to study – originally from China, and a member of a study group interested in paranormal phenomena, all of which is true, in case anyone's interested."

Kanda let out a disgusted snort, but Lavi did lean in, more than just a little intrigued. "And how did he react to that?" It was a curious question really, considering the fact that Allen Walker did have a nasty habit of bolting when faced with a possible or confirmed agent of the Order.

"Well," Bak finally said after a few moments of thoughtful silence and contemplation, sounding very amused. "He did give me this loooong look before apparently realizing I had told him the truth, following which he introduced himself as an exorcist for hire on supposed vacation. Funny that."

In another context, it would have been funny. Now on the other hand…

"Nevertheless," Bak went on, closing the lid, apparently reliving the memory. "I somehow managed to convince him to stay the night, and I have to say that I'm really happy I did, seeing that he slept like the dead for the hours that followed. Also, he had developed a fever overnight, so I had him down a few painkillers and such before letting him out of my sight, though I'd care to admit that I would have preferred to keep my eye on him for a bit longer than that…"

Somehow, Lavi – and Kanda too, no doubt – had a hard time picturing it. "Did he seem… bothered about something to you?" Lavi finally asked, recalling a few of his earlier thoughts.

Bak lifted the lid to the laptop once more. "Considering the fact that he had just been attacked by old MacKenzie, I thought he was eerily calm," he commented. "Then again, he did – as I've already mentioned – seem wary, both of me and of his immediate surroundings…" he went on, pausing momentarily before continuing, looking down at the other's picture with a slight frown adorning his features. "However, when I moved him – he had fallen asleep in a chair and all – I thought I saw something – it was just a glimpse, but I'm pretty sure I saw something move out of the corner of my eye when I lifted him – he was surprisingly light by the way… he should really eat better…"

Lavi's eyebrow, which had up until then risen higher and higher as he had listened to the man's quite bizarre tale, lowered suddenly, joining his other one in a frown. "Hey, Kanda…"

The other's response was immediate and snappish. "What?"

Why? Why were they only starting to see things now when the signs – the missing pieces to the puzzle – were all there, like they had always been there, ripe for the picking? "Did he seem thin back when you met him down in the catacombs?"

Dark eyes looked at him briefly in the rear-view mirror before once again returning to watching traffic as they reached what was possibly the final traffic light before skipping town. "Who knows?"

Bak Chan on the other hand looked up in keen interest. "The catacombs? Wasn't that just in the-…?"

"Yeah…" – Kanda's eyes stubbornly remained on the road – "Don't ask."

Surprisingly, the other seemed to accept Kanda's demands without any protests whatsoever, apparently taking his word for it, skipping right ahead to the real issue at hand. "So, who and what are we dealing with here?"

Lavi helpfully pointed the man in direction of the folder appropriately named _Noah_.

"Adam Walker?" Bak said after a while, looking up from the aforementioned individual's profile. "Any relation to Allen?"

Lavi just shrugged mildly in response. "Who knows? In any case, our sources have it that he is called _'the Earl'_."

"Tyki Mikk?" the other went on to mutter, either having moved onto another file altogether or simply browsing through the list of people featured in the same folder. "Sounds familiar somehow…"

"Allen's neighbor… and resident stalker if our reports serve as any sort of indication," Lavi responded, leaning further back into his seat as he resumed the activity of playing around with his phone, already on good way towards another high score.

"As opposed to you guys, you mean?" Bak noted with some degree of amusement, even though there was still a hidden edge to his voice when he said it, one which was not lost on either of them as the other continued browsing through the list of names. "Sheryl Camelot… that name also sounds familiar… Isn't he an important adviser of the Prime Minister?" – Kanda let out a snort, but gave no further comment to it – "And Skin Bolic… looks a bit thick…"

There was another pause, all while Bak Chan continued browsing through the files, mumbling thoughtfully. "Road Camelot… the daughter of that Sheryl-guy?"

"Adopted," Kanda responded without skipping a beat.

"Before or after she was possessed?"

Good question. That was – in all actuality – a very, very, _very _good question.

"Jasdero and Devitto? No last name? By the way, shouldn't it be 'Jasper' and 'David'?"

Once again – and to Lavi's surprise – Kanda's response was swift and largely devoid of spite, even though there was a slight hint of growing irritation to it, no doubt because of the other's persistent inquiries. "Our sources claim they were both taken in by this 'Earl'. Foster kids, no doubt."

The other let out a somewhat thoughtful hum before looking down at the files with some degree of somberness. "Somehow, I have a feeling that kind of thing is pretty common…"

"What's pretty common?" Kanda enquired before Lavi had even managed to get his mouth open, which was a novel and pretty shocking notion altogether.

Bak Chan looked up from the screen. "I do not know which principles this Earl-guy adheres to, but if he's really aiming to bring a bunch of powerful demons to this side and have them possess certain individuals, it makes sense, doesn't it?" he said, making a vague gesture towards the files still displayed on the screen. "Foster kids, orphans… it's a sad thing to admit it, but I have no doubt that there are quite a few of them out there that aren't given the care they're entitled to… children that won't be missed or too closely checked up upon, seeing that they lack people who're close to them…" he paused momentarily, giving them both a rather pointed look. "They're often strong, those children, mentally at any rate… However, it'd only make sense if they still felt some sort of obligation towards the supposedly benevolent person who stepped up to be their guardian, don't you think?"

"Ah, and here we go again," Bak went on, looking at the screen again. "Lulu Bell, another former foster kid. If we looked into the background of some of the others, I have no reason to doubt that their backgrounds would be similar…" – He lowered it carefully before handing the laptop back to a surprised Lavi – "Won't be missed or too closely checked upon…" the man went on to say, looking thoughtfully from him to Kanda in the driver's seat. "Under such circumstances, it would be harder to notice, right – demonic possession, that is?"

It wouldn't be hard or difficult; it would be god damn next to impossible…

"They could still be noticed," Bak himself also admitted. "But odds are that they'd be attributed to mental causes rather than spiritual. Then again, combinations are by no means unusual… and that's without even considering the fact that some children are sensitive, and thus more receptive to things pertaining to spirits. Vivid imagination or not, certain children do attract more spirits than others…"

And Allen Walker certainly fit the description of that to a T, didn't he?

As if having read his halfway formulated thoughts, Bak Chan chose the moment to speak up again, addressing that very matter. "Judging from the amount of power Allen seems to have, I think it's safe to say that his childhood probably wasn't an easy one, considering the fact that he is – well, _was_, up until just recently – an emancipated minor at the age of fifteen who lived alone, working some really dangerous cases to keep himself afloat…. when there are many other – far less hazardous – ways of making money, legally or illegally…"

"Maybe he's suicidal?" Lavi found himself suggesting, joking more than everything even though it was hardly the time for such a thing. With all due honesty, he could hardly help himself, seeing that it was such an ingrained habit of his.

"If the kid was suicidal, he would have offed himself by now," Kanda snapped, even though Lavi was positive the other wouldn't have cared enough to comment previously. "Besides, for a person like him, committing suicide would probably be decidedly unintelligent…"

"It would, no doubt," Bak instantly agreed, leveling the aforementioned redhead with a somewhat admonishing look. "Or rather, let me put it like this… Would you off yourself in case you knew there was a great risk you might end up being unable to pass on?"

Lavi smiled sheepishly in return. "Guess not."

"Either way, the kid's obviously got no parents looking out for him, so he fits the same profile as the others," Bak said, continuing leveling him with this annoyingly discerning look. "However, there's also a great possibility that he is far more involved with the spirits than any of the others were before they were possessed, and as an exorcist – a freelancer or not – he would obviously be aware of what awaits him…"

"Then why hasn't he already…?" – Then, realization struck – "Oh…"

Bak turned his head slightly, looking at him more intently. "Oh?"

A memory – previously tucked in behind several other more prominent ones – resurfaced in his mind. He opened his mouth to clarify, but once again, Kanda beat him to it. "We carried out a minor unauthorized investigation of the house they'd been residing in, finding evidence which suggests the use of certain sedatives…"

In truth, they'd just caught a glimpse of numerous bottles and small packages containing pharmaceutics along with a bunch of half-emptied blister packs, and Lavi – possessing a photographic memory – had only spared them a brief glance before moving on, only recalling them – along with their ominous labels – later on, when they had since long left the mansion behind.

"In other words," Bak said, seeking confirmation. "You think they've kept him hopped on drugs?"

_Think_ was such a weak word; _strongly suspect_ had a much nicer ring to it.

"It's hard to say for sure actually," he found himself saying. "It is entirely possible that those pills were someone else's, or that they had just been temporarily put in to ease whatever symptoms the kid's probably had, but… it seems just a tad too convenient, doesn't it?"

It wasn't just a tad too convenient; it was perfect, and it was positively sickening to think about it.

"For his sake and theirs, let's hope not…" Bak said, and Lavi could do little else but quietly agree.

Briefly, a somber mood reigned, but it was swiftly broken as Bak clapped his hands together once more. "So," he said, apparently intent on orally summing up the main points of the issue, the latter of which he had no doubt derived from Lavi's most recent notes. "We're supposedly up against at least half a dozen people who have merged themselves with demonic entities and gained their powers as a result…" – He paused momentarily, taking a deep breath – "Okay. It's a bit unusual, but I think we can deal with that."

A _bit_ unusual? Why not _extremely rare_?

"And," Bak went on, leaning back against the backrest of the backseat, staring up into the car ceiling. "We are to make sure said half a dozen human-demon hybrids do not increase their numbers, and we are to accomplish said task by either completely preventing or by interrupting the supposed summoning and initiation ritual said hybrids are likely going to undertake…" he paused momentarily, clasping his hands against the back of his neck. "And that's the part where I come in to save the day with my awesome sealing skills, achieving an ultimate victory which I will be able to rub into Komui's face later on as a proof of my vastly superior ability…"

_What?_

Lavi looked at the man with wide eyes, unable to believe such a presumptuous statement had just exited the other's mouth.

Then, just as swift as previously, Kanda spoke up, snapping. "Are you five years old or something?"

Bak Chan just smiled somewhat apologetically in response before opening his mouth, seemingly intending to respond to the purely rhetorical question. However, before he was able to, Kanda cut him off. "You," the latter said simply, fixating the other in the rear-view mirror. "Shut up." – The eyes flickered momentarily to the road before coming to rest upon Lavi, narrowing – "And you, same thing."

Lavi, having overcome his earlier disbelief, exchanged a look with his fellow passenger in the backseat. Then, the latter pulled out a small journal, beckoning Lavi to lean closer and he obliged, unable to help his newly reawakened curiosity, recalling something that Kanda had mentioned about the guy. "One of my old travelling journals," the latter informed him, handing it over.

Lavi, once again unable to help himself, humbly received it and browsed through it with growing interest, especially so when he caught sight of several photographs attached to it, depicting various sceneries, people and shrines of some eastern country, presumably Japan from the looks of it. Eventually, he came upon a vaguely familiar face, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

The text accompanying the photograph read _"Yu's first kagura dance"_ and featured a very young and unbelievably girly-looking Kanda wearing some sort of kimono jacket – a _haori_, maybe – a pair of extremely wide trousers – _hakama_, if he remembered things correctly – and a pair of traditional sandals, seemingly engaged in some sort of traditional dance. It was a beautiful picture – it even looked professional – and god damn it all, Kanda was so unbelievable cute as a kid.

"Not a word," the aforementioned warned, no doubt quite aware of what had been going on in the backseat. "I'll kill you," the aforementioned then promised, before shooting a glare in Bak's general direction. "You, _scry_."

The latter went ahead and did just that, pulling out a map, unfolding it and holding his hand right above it, closing his eyes and mumbling strange words under his breath. To Lavi's eyes, the ever-present glow surrounding the other's hand gradually intensified until it was visible to the naked eye, forming lines and circles in the other's palm and remaining that way for nearly a minute before the glow dissipated and Bak Chan looked up with an expression of knowing held in his eyes. "According to what I'm getting, they've already made it to Ullapool."

"That's bad," Lavi said, unfastening his seatbelt and leaning forward, putting the other's journal away and pulling out his cell phone instead. "At this rate, they'll be all done by the time we catch up to them."

"Then what the Hell do you suggest?" Kanda hissed right back at him.

"Will you hang on a sec?" Lavi held his hand up slightly, using his other to browse through his cell phone's phonebook. "I'm working on it."

"Head for the Isle of Skye," Bak cut in, fiddling with his own phone. "I've got an acquaintance with a boat."

"A boat?" Kanda quipped, deeply skeptical.

"A catamaran."

"Hah!"

Two pairs of eyes flickered to rest upon Lavi, who – despite his triumphant shout only a second or so previously – looked up at them with some amount of hesitation. "Ehm, guys…" he began, swallowing soundly in an effort to refrain from grinning widely. "How would you feel about doing something… possibly illegal?"

Kanda looked ready to snort, but gritted his teeth instead. "Location?"

"Fort William," Lavi said, rapidly processing the situation. "By the way, can any of you fly a plane?"

Bak shrugged apologetically. "Unfortunately not, I'm afraid…"

Kanda remained silent for a moment, accelerating slightly before finally speaking up. "Model?"

"_DHC-3 Otter_, I think," Lavi responded, once again barely able to contain his excitement. "I didn't know you had a license."

"You never asked for a license," Kanda shot right back at him, pressing down the gas pedal and putting in a lower gear to overtake a car which actually abided the speed limits. "You just asked whether or not I could operate one."

Lavi's grin broke out in full force, even as Bak – suddenly the serious and responsible adult in the bunch – leant back in his seat with an exasperated sigh.

**- o0o -**


	13. Echoes

_If the previous one was humour, this one is psychological, in a nightmarish flashback-y kind of fashion with the promise of some possibly unexpected revelations. Cheers!_

**- o0o -**

**Echoes**

**- o0o -**

Flickering lights…

_"You cannot touch me."_

One candle was blown out, leaving thirteen.

_"You cannot hurt me."_

Another candle was blown out, leaving twelve.

_"You have no power over me."_

Eleven candles…

There were voices; voices speaking, calling out to him._ "Come…"_

Ten candles…

The voices – one voice in particular – continued to beckon him._ "Come…"_

Nine candles…

He told himself not to answer; not to acknowledge them. Acknowledging them gave them power, and in his mind, they were strong enough already.

_"Allen…"_

Eight candles…

There was a sudden blast of cold air in his face, and he screwed his eyes shut, all while the temperature around him continued to drop.

Seven candles, six…

_"You shall not touch me. Not now. Not ever. Not without my permission. You cannot touch me. Not now. Not ever. Not without my permission. You shall not harm me in any way. I will not let you harm me…"_

Five candles…

It – because now it was more of a single entity than a bunch of them – almost seemed to be taunting him.

Four candles…

_"You shall not touch me. Not now. Not ever. Not without my permission. You cannot touch me. Not now. Not ever. Not without my permission. You shall not harm me in any way. I will not let you harm me…"_

Three candles…

_"You shall not touch me. Not now. Not ever. Not without my permission. You cannot touch me. Not now. Not ever. Not without my permission. You shall not harm me in any way. I will not let you harm me…"_

Two candles…

His hands were on his ears, pressing against it, and he screamed, yelling at the thing at the top of his lungs. _"Leave me alone!"_

One candle…

Darkness.

**- o0o -**

Darkness.

He lay in darkness, shut up in some sort of confined space.

Panic.

He could barely move or even breathe.

He tried to move his hands, wincing in pain as an unseen strap of some sort binding his hands together came into a greater deal of contact with already raw skin on his halfway numb wrists.

He stared out into the darkness, his eyes wide and unseeing, gasping quietly as there was a muffled sound from somewhere above before something fell and scattered somewhere on a surface right above him. Soil, he realized; it was the sound of soil hitting a wooden surface.

They were burying him – he had been knocked out and tied up and locked into a coffin, and he was being buried alive. He was down inside a dugout hole in the ground. They were somewhere above – up there on the surface – and they were burying him, shoveling soil down into the hole, allowing it to – at least indirectly – pile on top of him. They – whoever _they_ were – must have drugged him, seeing that restraints or not, his body felt like it had been made out of lead and his head was pounding.

Another load of soil crashed down against an unseen lid, and he screwed his eyes shut. He closed his mouth – somewhat surprised that he hadn't been gagged – and swallowed soundly. Both his mouth and his throat felt dry, and as he swallowed, he began coughing weakly and found that he couldn't stop, even as the sounds of shovels ceased temporarily, following which there was a heavy thud.

Then, suddenly, there was loud banging against the lid and he actually cried out when the sound assaulted his ears, bringing it – which could only be presumed to be crude knocking using a metal shovel – to a sudden stop. Then, the knocking resumed, but the sound was softer this time around as only knuckles were used, and there was a voice in the darkness from somewhere above him, sounding somewhat hesitant. _"Hello?"_

He was silent again; silent and completely gone still to the extent that he wasn't even breathing anymore, staring blankly and wide-eyed into the darkness before him, unable to properly comprehend the situation.

"_Hey!"_ – There was another voice out there, coming from even higher above – _"What're ye duin' down there?"_

"_Thought I heard sumthin',"_ the first voice responded, clearly addressing the owner of the second voice.

"_Probably jus' a cat or sumthin',"_ the second voice responded. _"Now git back up here. We ought to be finished here by lunch."_

"_Aye, aye…"_ – There was the sound of shuffling and he knew the other was leaving, and panic blossomed anew within him. – _"Give me a hand over here."_

_No!_

"_What was that?"_

It was dark and he couldn't move; couldn't breathe. It was dark and he couldn't move; couldn't breathe, couldn't…

He opened his mouth, but there was no air to say anything, and he only – just barely – managed to accomplish a breathless whisper. _"Please…"_

Again, there was a loud bang against the lid of the coffin he was trapped in, and he – using what little air he felt like he could still attain – repeated his earlier plea. His eyes felt like they were burning, but he still fought to keep them open, even while knowing it was useless. They wouldn't hear him; they weren't even real to begin with. He was already dead – _dead, dead, dead, __**dead**_.

This must be Hell, he blearily noted before once again fading out, becoming one with the lingering darkness as it enveloped him, wrapping itself tightly around him and drowning out the sounds around him. He was rapidly getting number again, but that didn't matter; it didn't matter because he was already dead.

"_Oh my God…"_

For a brief moment, he thought he saw just a glimpse of light, but he discarded it. It wasn't real anyway; it really couldn't be, because it was already too late for him. He was dead – _dead, dead, dead, __**dead**_.

"_Oh God…"_

He had been bound and laid out in a coffin and buried underground. It was over. He was dead.

"_Is he breathing?!"_

There was no air and he couldn't breathe, but that was alright, because he was dead, and dead people didn't need to breathe.

"_What the Hell are ye waiting for?! Go call an ambulance!"_

It wasn't real.

"_Hey!"_

These voices – they were just there to taunt him. They weren't real, because he was already…

"_Can ye hear me?! Hey?!"_

There was a hand shaking him, but it wasn't real, not really.

"_Stay with me, lad! Stay with me!"_

Why? He was already gone, wasn't he? Or was he?

For a brief moment, he found that he was uncertain, and his eyelids fluttered slightly.

Real or not, the other's persistent shouting was hurting his ears. He just wanted it to stop.

Then, his eyes snapped open suddenly, and daylight and the sight of an overcast sky met his eye, blinding him temporarily. Even so – using energy he didn't have – he sat up, panicking anew at the sight of an unfamiliar man in his forties or fifties hovering above him, even more so when the aforementioned grabbed him anew, amplifying his panic tenfold and triggering a flight reflex.

Before he knew what he had done, he had used his hands – wrists still held together by some sort of strap – to attempt to hit the other, and when that failed and he was grabbed and pulled out of the coffin, he bit the man's hand hard enough to draw blood. He heard a surprised and pained shout, and fully expected a hard blow to follow, and as such, he froze up when none came and a somewhat pained voice – the first voice, already familiar to him – spoke to him soothingly, seemingly intent on trying to calm him down. _"It's okay, lad, it's okay."_ – There were fingers running through his hair and arms embracing him – _"You're alright. You'll be alright…"_

He wished he could take his word for it, but he really couldn't. Even so, he released the bleeding wrist he had earlier bit down upon and looked up at the man with something akin to wonder, wonder which only amplified as the man granted him a grin which was missing a few teeth. Then, there were the sound of running footsteps on top of soft grass. His panic resurfaced and he began to struggle anew, but the man shushed him, repeating the earlier promise.

A new face – the face of a slightly younger man, possibly in his late twenties or early thirties – showed up, peering down at them from the edge of the grave which was surprisingly deep, possibly even a full six feet. _"The ambulance will be here in a few minutes. The coppers too."_

"Good," the older man said, continuing his ministrations. _"Now help us up."_

**- o0o -**

Darkness.

He lay on his side curled up in a fetal position, his eyes screwed tightly shut, holding the borrowed blanket more tightly around himself, shivering.

There are voices all around – people too, but he is shutting them out by keeping his eyes tightly shut – along with sounds of people moving about, chatting amongst themselves in hushed, angered or detached tones.

In the distance, he heard the steadily approaching sound of more sirens, adding to those which had already arrived, assaulting his ears and making him cringe.

The police was already there, investigating the exhumed grave or questioning the men who had found him, and one or two had even sought to ask him about it while trying to make sure he didn't have any more grievous injuries other than those on his wrists and a minor bruise on his left temple, but they had mostly left him alone after he had snarled at them, shuffling closer to the man who had got him out of there in the first place.

He was exhausted, but far too paranoid to allow himself to let go. It was too fresh in his memory – far too fresh – the sensation of waking up inside a camped coffin being buried alive. Still, even though he did not want to think about it, there were still questions piling up and far too many of them. Why a grave? Why had it been empty or exhumed? Why had he been…?

As he heard the approach of paramedics, he screwed his eyes even more tightly shut, wishing he was dead again; wishing he could get away.

Then, they – the paramedics – were upon him, surrounding him from all sides. _"Is this the kid?"_ someone asked, while another gently laid a hand onto his shoulder. He flinched, and the hand was removed, even though it continued to hover right above it as someone, a female – probably the owner of it – spoke to him. _"Sweetie? Are you okay in there?"_

He wasn't okay. There were too many people – too many voices – around him, suffocating him with their presences. _"Be careful,"_ he heard one of the nearby police constables say. _"He's violent."_

"_He's scared,"_ the woman said, on the verge of snapping from the sounds of it. _"Now Sweetie, we'll give you something to help you calm down, okay?"_

"_It's okay,"_ the other voices whispered, equally treacherous. _"Because you'll feel soooo much better after this…"_

He lashed out suddenly, strangely aware of where the approaching needle was, and – using their bewilderment to his advantage – he sought to make his escape, even though he knew somewhere that it was a futile thing to do, because soon, he was recaptured and soon, the world around him faded once more, and for once, the voices faded with it, returning only when he came to in a hospital, so drugged up on sedatives he could barely even differ waking moments from non-waking. First, there were nothing and no one, and then – as sudden as the blink of an eye – there were policemen, nurses and social workers fluttering about, asking questions he either could not answer or would not answer. _"Who did this to you?"_ they asked. _"Who were they? What did they look like?"_

_They_ did this to him, but they were not the same _they_ as the ones before him and not the _they_ that had found him. He didn't know who _they_ were, just as little as he knew his own identity. He didn't know their faces either, vividly recalling having worn a blindfold sometime prior to having woken up in a coffin. Then again, his memories were all over the place, and even in a completely clear-headed state, he doubted he would be able to piece it all together.

"_What's your name, lad?" _

He had no name; no name, no identity.

"_Where are your parents?"_

He couldn't recall ever having any.

"_The people who take care of you?"_

He couldn't recall their names or faces, but he knew he had them, because even though he had ended up where he had, down in a whole in a ground. As for what had taken place before that – before waking up inside a casket to the realization he was being buried alive – he could only recall fragments of his life, reasoning that it was probably better not to remember it in the first place.

People had taken care of him though – prior to the events – and they hadn't really hurt him from what he could recall, up until the time right before they went away.

He averted his eyes, staring out the window or at some random corner of the room.

"_Did they do things to you?"_ they tried instead. _"Bad things?"_

He looked up shortly, momentarily meeting the eyes of this person – of this social worker or child psychiatrist or whatnot – before averting them once more.

"_Did they… hurt you?"_ she tried instead, trying to keep a professional appearance but failing to do. _"Did they… touch you in any strange ways?"_

They hadn't. Prior to right before they had gone away, they had barely even touched him in general and much less laid hands on him. As far as he could recall, they had fed him, clothed him, and allowed him to take showers. As far as he could recall, they had given him books to read and paper and brightly colored crayons to draw with. As far as he could recall – prior to the events – they had given him everything; everything but his freedom.

From what he could recall, a small windowless room had made up the greater part of his world, and his caretakers had visited him irregularly, entering through a hole in the ceiling and down a ladder.

The above – whatever lay up there – had been a world forbidden to him though, but the fact that he knew it and recognized it – the buildings, the steady streams of cars and people pouring back and forth between different locations, the smell of fresh air and the sensation of wind against his bare skin and the color of trees and grass and the sky in all its different varieties – was proof enough that he had at some point walked it, prior to him ending up in someone's basement. Those memories – however fleeting – were also forbidden to him, but he had locked them deep inside where they could not be seen by _them_, learning from his initial mistakes and seemingly accepting the version _they_ had told him, unwilling to face the punishments they did see it fit to inflict upon him whenever he refused to obey.

"_They left me alone in the dark,"_ he finally whispered, speaking for the first time during questioning. _"No food, no water, no lights… no way out."_

There was a gasp and a hand reaching for him – probably instinctually, driven by some sort of parental instinct – but when he flinched, it retreated quickly. _"It must've been terrible for you…"_ she said, her voice almost a whisper.

He said nothing, still keeping a keen eye out in case she tried to touch him again.

"_What's your name?"_ she tried once again when he did not elaborate. _"I'm Mina by the way."_

A name?

Thoughtfully, he moved his hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear to get it out of his face, but he paused when he finally took actual note of the intensity of the color of it – of the redness – now that one of the nurses had washed and rinsed it for him. The aforementioned nurse had offered to cut it too once she had managed to untangle it, but he had told her to leave it be, largely uncaring in regards to his own looks since that place had not had any mirrors.

"_What should I call you?"_ she tried instead when he did not respond and he actually thought about it for a moment or two before deciding upon a name – however temporary – for himself.

"_Red."_

It was a beautiful color – bright and far more vivid than he remembered it ever being – and as such, he would rather not cut it if he did not need to, even though _they_ had also refused to see it cut. Had he been able to choose, then he would probably have kept it that way. However, once the investigations of not only the police but also social services had come up with nothing and he had been cleared to be introduced into the systems he had apparently been missing from, he ended up at an orphanage run by the Church, and the nuns over there – most of them, at any rate – wouldn't take no for an answer. Apparently – for whatever reason – they had not liked his hair color and from what he managed to gather, they had not liked the name he had given himself either, prompting him to get himself baptized and to take on the name of a proper Christian.

With all due honesty, he could probably have done without the latter, but since he was still allowed to pick a new name for himself he decided to pick one which held some sort of meaning to him.

Even though he never really found out exact details about how and why he was suddenly dumped in a newly exhumed grave, he had still found himself curious about just whose grave – and possibly even just whose coffin – he had unexpectedly come to occupy, seeing that said grave had obviously previously belonged to someone and said someone wasn't him.

After a bit of research – or rather, after a bit of pressuring his newly appointed social worker Mina – he had managed to get a hold of the name of the guy who was supposed to have been resting peacefully there in his stead.

_A-L-L-E-N W-A-L-K-E-R_

Once he had heard it – even without knowing a thing about the guy the name had once belonged to – he knew it belonged to him now and he had made it so, despite the frowns of others. Back then, after he had been through yet another Hell inflicted by others, he had met Mana Walker and – after a great number of times being adopted and sent right back to the orphanage – he had barely even taken note of the peculiar coincidence that their surnames – which in Allen's case was an assumed one, but a surname nonetheless – already matched.

In hindsight, he hadn't even thought of it, having had a general policy to think as little about his own past as possible. He had always lived in the present and headed for an unknown future, fully intent on not looking back at what had once been, either so that he would not be forced to relive it or because he could never regain any of those moments – precious and few, but vital.

While at the orphanage, he had begun discovering the world anew, looking at it with a then newly attained kind of clarity through which he had been able to piece together that the weird things he saw and voices he heard were really there even though not everyone could perceive them like he did. Others – either thinking he was possessed, imagining it or even schizophrenic – came to scorn him and in return, he had sought to hide it to no avail. Mana however was not like most others, taking strange sounds and occurrences in stride and even taking a great deal of delight in it, citing a poor memory and absentmindedness when things moved around or disappeared altogether and never once denying the world that Allen saw but he only seemed to perceive on occasion through hearing voices.

In acknowledging Allen's world and circumstances, Mana had earned his respect. It hadn't mattered that the man was a bit crazy; Mana was Mana, and Mana had accepted him, so it only made sense for him to accept Mana the way he was, even if the man did occasionally get into these moods and start lashing out at him, acting all obsessively or like a child trapped in the body of an adult.

Even after the man had attempted to take his life, Allen had never once resented the man for his actions – for cursing him – and even though it had been a quite traumatizing experience he had spent the better part of these last couple of years trying to forget all about, Mana had still retained Allen's respect.

In hindsight, he also found that he respected the man's choices even though the man had – in the end – chosen the life of another above Allen's, seeking to resurrect his late brother using Allen as a stepping stone. Admittedly, it hurt to know that, but he still respected the man's choices. He still loved the man like a father – like an uncle or a little brother – despite it all, despite all of that dread, pain, smoke, blood, and death.

Had he been a perfectly ordinary child – that is to say normal – then he probably would have viewed things a bit differently. Then again, with him, stuff had been pretty screwed up from the very beginning, so he had hardly seen the point of starting to act like one then.

His entire life – or rather, the parts of it that he could actually recall with some degree of clarity – he had from time to time found himself contemplating whether or not he would not actually be better off dead. Yet, whenever he did end up in some sort of situation when his life was put into an immediate danger of some sort, he had – in one way or the other – ended up taking an active part in preventing it, seeing that even in the incident with Mana, Allen himself had ultimately plunged a knife into the other's chest before slitting the man's throat for good measure, and even though it was a given that neither of them had quite been themselves at the time, Allen had still – for just the fraction of a second – willed it to happen, just as he had done many times before as well as after, inflicting harm either directly or indirectly with the force of his emotions.

Fear, anger, frustration and whatnot were certainly strong on their own, but even they paled in comparison to the intense will to live that blossomed violently within him whenever he came face to face with his own mortality at a close range, especially now that the former shadow of Neah Walker had re-entered his life, and with its touch – with the imprint it had left on him both recently and further back in time – his previously half-faded memories had resurfaced with an acute kind of clarity, along with at least one other entirely new set of memories – of fragments – that certainly were not his own, no doubt hailing from the late brother of Mana.

Evidently, the man's – or rather, the boy's, seeing that Neah Walker by all accounts hadn't lived to see twenty – memories were only loose fragments, and there was still huge portions of them missing somewhere, and along with them quite a bit of the context. Evidently, he had seen at least a few glimpses of the other's motives and plan for taking down the Earl along with the other Noah, but that still left the question as to why Neah – who by all means appeared to be a quite clever individual with a keen sense of reading the situation – would come to the Earl in the first place, as well as to what would make the latter take in not only Neah but also his brother.

Then again, who was he to question Neah's motives, as he himself had made use of the man – particularly the man's financial resources – and was on good way to paying the inevitable price for it, much like his predecessor before him, seeing that making a deal with the Earl was just the same as making a deal with the Devil, seeing that both of them collected and did so with interest, something which he and Neah had both seemingly learnt the hard way.

They – Neah and him – had from what Allen had seen sought to solve their own problems but had eventually – inevitably – ended up spiraling down a path where they seemingly came to fear either for themselves or for the people near and dear to them. To protect Mana – to save Mana's life – Neah had been willing to do anything, and in return, in order to get Neah back, Mana had been fully willing to return the favor no matter the cost.

"_Leukemia."_

He was standing near a lake he had seen in his dreams, knowing it was the lake Neah had once told Mana to head down to, and he looked up, coming face to face with a solid-looking Neah where he stood, halfway submerged into the water and dripping from it, as though he had just risen from the deep, watching him.

"_It had gone too far,"_ he found himself whispering, memories resurfacing. _"It was too late."_

"_The treatment didn't work out,"_ Neah responded, remaining partially submerged. _"And I…"_

The other did not go on, but instead, the scenery around them changed into that of a hospital room, depicting a young boy hooked up on life-support. Neah stood next to him now, a bit taller than him, but Allen barely took note of it, his eyes glued to the scene before him.

"_Come."_ – There was an arm laid across his back, steering him away from it and towards the door. He didn't try to shrug it off, finding himself allowing the intrusion of his personal space. – _"I'll show you."_

Together, they ventured out it and down a corridor before coming to a sudden stop.

Neah pointed, and Allen looked in the direction the other was pointing and laid eyes on a much younger and eerily familiar boy seated in a chair with his knees pulled up and his head tilted towards them, his face hidden in his arms. One second, it was as though the other's younger self was the only person sitting in that corridor, but the next, dreadfully familiar and well measured steps were making their way down the corridor, seemingly echoing in the perceived silence before coming to a stop right before the boy. _"Good afternoon."_

The younger Neah risked a glance at the man but soon averted his eyes. _"Go away."_

The man – a somewhat younger version of the Earl – did not comply and leant closer instead. _"Ask politely."_

Neah stared right back at him, unwavering. _"No."_

The Earl's previously placid facial expression morphed into an almost predatory grin. _"Even at the cost of your brother's life?"_

Neah's eyes grew wide, and Allen felt ill, especially as the Earl crouched down before the other, removed one of his gloves and put his hand out, bare fingertips brushing against the other's cheek while the latter seemingly froze up, eyes widening momentarily. _"Child, we can end this anytime you want to, anyway you want to…" _the Earl said. _"All you need to do is to say the word…"_

Within an instant, Neah was up and already trying to make his getaway, but fingers wrapped around one of his wrists in an instant, keeping him from going any further and tightening up until the point it was not only hurtful but extremely so, and he let out a pained gasp as the other tugged him right back. _"One word,"_ the Earl went on to speak softly into the boy's ear. _"Two words, three words or even more words… Be my guest… But, for Mana, time's already running out so… tick…"_ – The younger Neah tore himself free despite it all and ran down the corridor, passing right through Allen and the other Neah where they stood, having watched the exchange – _"Tock…"_

"_If it had been for Mana…"_ the older Neah began and Allen turned his attention back towards him. _"I would have stood by and watched the world burn. If I could have my brother by my side and if he could be happy and healthy, I would do anything to keep that way…"_

"_But…?"_ Allen found himself asking, because there was always a catch.

The other paused momentarily, looking towards the specter of the Earl where he stood, suddenly seeming so much farther away than he had previously. _"He didn't need Mana,"_ Neah finally admitted, continuing to look towards the man with something akin to regret entering both his face and his voice. _"He didn't need Mana, and he wanted me all to himself, but I knew what he was from the start and refused to go with him, so he used my brother's deteriorating state against me, offering to save Mana's life in exchange for my allegiance. However, gradually he was consumed by the notion that Mana was a threat, and he acted accordingly, plotting his imminent demise. But I found out and began plotting against him, determined not to allow Mana to get hurt because of me… but…"_ – The regret in the other's voice and demeanor became painfully evident – _"I ended up hurting him in ways I couldn't even imagine…"_

The scenery began changing again; making it seem as though they were rushing through a seemingly endless corridor even though they remained right where they were. Suddenly, they were back in the hospital room, with Neah seated on a chair at his brother's bedside, his shoulders and head drooping, looking like he had not slept in days and was rapidly reaching his breaking point. _"It's too much…" _– Allen found himself looking from the boy in the chair to the older one standing next to him, the latter watching the scene with seeming impassiveness. – _"I can't take it anymore…"_

The words were eerily familiar to him; as was the perceived sensation of being cornered and of seemingly having no way out. However, from what he could see, Neah was completely alone in his anguish. For Neah, there was no ghost of a kindly old matron to comfort him. For Neah…

There was a sudden knock on the door, and Neah swiveled around, already tensing and assuming a defensive position, even without being able to tell just who was out there. Then, there was a voice – completely foreign but strangely familiar – heard from the other side of the door. _"Then take a walk."_

Then, there was the sound of retreating footsteps, and Neah – the younger one – was suddenly back on his feet, surprise and disbelief written all over his face for a brief moment before his facial expression darkened once more and he stalked towards the door, no doubt intent on finding out the identity of the eavesdropper, and Allen – just as eager to find out – tagged along.

Once again, he was out in the corridor, and he – standing just behind a younger Neah – stared in shock at the young man walking down the corridor who paused in his stride and turned around slightly, no doubt aware of their – or at least Neah's – approach. Silver-grey eyes – utterly familiar – gazed down upon him and long red hair – pulled into a somewhat messy ponytail at the base of his neck – assaulted his vision, and he could not help but stare at the young man who carried such an eerie resemblance to him, even down to the smile – a bit wry, yet strangely sincere. _"Would you care to join me?"_

**- o0o -**


	14. Shifting Tides

…

**- o0o -**

**Shifting Tides**

**- o0o -**

"_Would you care to join me?"_

The other – the grey-eyed young man with the ponytail – held out his hand, no doubt addressing Neah but seemingly looking at Allen himself. A bit taken aback, Allen actually took a step back, right into the older Neah who in turn grabbed his shoulders lightly to steady him slightly before pushing him forward, towards the pair, while Allen himself turned around to look at the other in confusion. _"Go with him,"_ the older Neah urged, looking back into the direction they had come from. _"I have nothing more to tell you."_

Allen decided to take his word for it, and followed the pair before him, scenery changing all around him once more, and this one was very familiar to him in more ways than one, even though he was positive he had never seen it during the day at the very height of autumn.

"_A graveyard?"_ – Greyfriars Kirkyard; why did it always have to be Greyfriars Kirkyard? – _"You come here often?"_

"_Occasionally."_ – The longhaired redhead smiled down at the younger Neah. – _"I quite like it here."_

Neah leveled the other with a somewhat suspicious look. _"Why?"_

The other shrugged mildly in response, wrapping his long frockcoat more tightly around himself. _"The atmosphere soothes me."_

"_You're sick,"_ Neah spat out.

"_I'm quite a regular at the hospital,"_ the other responded without the least of spite. _"Of course I'm sick."_

"_Why a graveyard?" _Neah asked as they wandered further into it. _"Why not a park of some sort?"_

Once again, the other shrugged slightly, hands shoved into his pockets. _"Parks are so noisy, and occasionally full of dog shit."_

True.

Neah on the other hand just frowned. _"This place's full of dead people. It's full of rotting corpses being eaten up by worms."_

Also true, technically speaking.

"_Touché."_ – The other smiled bleakly. – _"Still, though I might be a bit morbid, I quite like it here and I usually come here to stretch my legs a bit and most of all to __**think**__."_

"_About what?"_

Silver-grey eyes stared thoughtfully into the distance. _"About a lot of things… about all the stuff I've done, about all the stuff that I haven't done…"_ the other said, coming to a sudden stop right before a grave. _"This is my favorite spot,"_ he announced, all while Neah's frown only deepened.

"_On top of someone else's remains?"_

Point.

"_You're quite nasty, you know that?"_ – The other chuckled slightly, having taken no offence. – _"But you are – in essence – correct."_

"_Why?"_

Why indeed.

"_When I first came here,"_ the other began, removing one of his hands from his pockets to make a slight hand gesture. _"To this particular spot, I was faced with the realization of my own mortality. I guess I'm still trying to get used to the thought…"_

"_You're dying?"_

Allen looked from one to the other, watching the exchange from a bit of a distance even though he was fairly sure they could not see or hear him. Then, as he decided to step a bit closer, the other spoke up, a strangely bright smile adorning his features. _"A year ago, I was told by my doctor that I had only six months left to live,"_ he said, smile brightening some more. _"Now, twelve months later, I'm still here, walking about."_

Neah just eyed the man skeptically. _"You should get yourself a new doctor."_

He received a mild shrug in return. _"Nah… he did his best to predict my fate, so I did my best to disprove him. Now that I've done that and now that I've still got a bit of time on my hands, I thought I might as well prepare myself for the day, whenever it may come."_

"_Prepare yourself?"_

The force of the other's grin diminished some, but still remained. Allen – now standing only one and a half meter away from the pair – found that there was something positively serene about it.

"_Yep,"_ the young man said, once again pointing to the grave in front of them. _"This spot. One day, this will be my spot."_

"_Why this one?"_ – Neah's eyes narrowed slightly. – _"It's an old cemetery. I don't think they even bury people here nowadays…"_

Another valid point.

"_Well,"_ the other said, eyes alternating between the aforementioned spot and the boy beside him. _"In such case, it's too bad for them, because I have this spot booked already."_ – He brought his hands out of his pockets and brought them up to his mouth, blowing hot air on them to warm them up. – _"Besides – up until quite recently – this spot belonged to an ancestor of mine, so I thought I might as well reclaim it when I found out that I could."_ – He sent an amused look in the boy's direction. – _"It saves me the trouble of ordering a new gravestone too, seeing that the guy only had his name on it. But, as you can see, it's not here now because they're cleaning it up a bit. Besides, they needed it gone before they could start digging…"_

"_And when is that?"_ Neah asked, receiving another shrug.

"_I thought it was today,"_ the other said, looking thoughtful but sounding almost disappointed. _"But they haven't even started yet."_

"_What's the hurry?"_

A _very_ valid question.

The other shifted his posture slightly, looking mildly bothered for a few seconds. _"Truth to be told,"_ he said, speaking somewhat slower than earlier. _"I've got a bad feeling about this week, so I thought I might as well be prepared."_

"_Why this week?" _

Another valid question, one which made the other look even more bothered about something. _"I don't know… and it puzzles me,"_ the other finally responded, looking very much like he was freezing and wanted to rub his own arms repeatedly to get some warmth into them. _"I mean, I feel great right now – by my own standards at any rate – but whenever I think about the week to come I feel ill."_

"_Why are you telling me this?"_ Neah asked, while Allen himself quietly asked _"Who are you?"_

The bleak smile from before was playing on the other's lips again. _"When I passed by that room and heard you,"_ he said. _"I thought I should try to broaden your horizons a bit…"_

Neah – previously quite controlled – actually bristled slightly. _"My brother is dying of leukemia and you dragged me off to a graveyard to show me where you wanted to be buried."_

Another valid point.

The other remained unaffected. _"Yeah, so?"_

The boy's anger gradually dissipated, morphing into a look of discontentedness. _"You still haven't even told me your name."_

The other smiled right back at him somewhat cheekily. _"And neither have you."_

Seemingly appeased, Neah shifted, tension draining from his shoulders and discontentedness fading from his face. _"Why did you bring me here anyway?"_

The other protested half-heartedly. _"I brought you nowhere,"_ he said. _"I asked whether or not you'd join me for a walk and you did. So…"_ – He looked down at the grave and then back at Neah, extending a hand for him to take. – _"Shall we start heading back then?"_

Neah eyed the hand in seeming suspicion before finally grasping it, still watching the other with a healthy amount of skepticism. _"I'm Neah."_

The other smiled, giving the smaller hand that had slid into his a slight squeeze. _"Nice to meet you."_ – He crouched down, leaning in almost conspiratorially, his voice lowering to a mere whisper. – _"I'm-…"_

**- o0o -**

Darkness.

He lay in darkness – out in the open this time around rather than trapped in an enclosed space – with a scent of grass and humid soil invading his nostrils. Slowly, he opened his eyes and was met by darkness though it was by no means as solid as the previous one has been due to the presence of lit windows and streetlights.

Ah, he remembered now.

He had encountered the MacKenzie Poltergeist and woken up in a graveyard, right on top of the very grave he had once nearly been buried in, and – unwilling to acknowledge his earliest memories – he had pronounced it his first, which it had technically been, seeing that it _had_ been the first time he had woken up in the middle of a graveyard as _Allen_, even though it had technically been his second experience if one took events having taken place _before_ that into account.

His earliest memories – memories of the time before Mana and before his time at the orphanage – had been all but forgotten at the time, safely tucked away behind more prominent and for the most part, more pleasant ones. Back then, when he had first decided to forget all about them, he hadn't thought much about them; he really hadn't thought they were in any way relevant, but in hindsight, he wondered.

He reached out towards the gravestone, tracing the name he knew would be there with his bare fingertips. _"Who are you? Who?"_

"_Wrong question."_

There was a glimmering orb hovering about above him, and in the next moment, the grey-eyed man from before had materialized, leaning onto the top of the headstone and looking down on him with keen interest.

Darkness.

**- o0o -**

He awoke with a gasp, as though he had been deep underwater and had only just broken through the surface. Still wide-eyed, he scanned his surroundings – the darkened interior of a familiar car – and noticed that he lay splayed out across the backseat of it and that there was a heavy coat covering him.

"Allen?"

He didn't answer, fully occupied with trying to calm his racing heart, even as the car door closest to his head opened and the face of Tyki Mikk turned upside-down entered his line of vision, amber-colored eyes studying him intently. "You look like you've seen a ghost or something," the man eventually pronounced.

Allen continued gasping for a while yet before finally getting his breathing back under control, letting out a shuddering breath while still struggling to keep his racing heart under control. He sat up – well, tried to at any rate – and nearly instantly regretted the notion as he was hit by the migraine which could very well be the one to end all other migraines, making him feel like his head was going to explode into itty bitty pieces, scattering pieces of skull and brain matter all over the backseat of the ca-…

On second thought, he really did not need that kind of image in his head; he had felt sick enough already without it. Then again, it wasn't as though he had anything other than water and bile to throw up in the first place, so…

Okay, so evidently, he did not need that kind of image in his head either; he really needed to imagine things a tad less realistically from now on, because at this rate, he was never getting out of it. "Say…"

Eyes screwed shut to avoid watching the world spin, he allowed Tyki to help him up into a seated position and pulled the coat – Tyki's coat, no doubt – more tightly around himself, shivering in the cold night air.

"What is it?"

Having recovered a bit, he forced his eyes back open, still shivering. "Am I entitled to a last meal?"

Tyki blinked at him. "Do you think you can actually hold anything down?" he finally asked, seemingly scrutinizing him.

"Maybe."

"Are you sure?"

"Not really."

"Well…" Tyki continued to scrutinize him. "I suppose we'll have to give it a shot…" – The other straightened up slightly, withdrawing slightly. – "Admittedly, this place is pretty rural and all, but if you've got any requests I'll be happy to at least attempt to get it for you…"

Allen took a discreet look at his surroundings, noting that the car was parked right outside a house. The lights were on, rays of it spilling out into the small parking lot, and Allen could clearly see shadows – presumably the others – moving about on the inside, no doubt preparing for what would eventually come. "You're just going to leave me here? _Alone_?"

He didn't know why he asked; it was an utterly stupid thing to ask seeing that it immediately drew the other's temporarily diverted attention right back to him.

A thoughtful look crossed the other's features and there was a telling tilt to the other's head, indicating a question. "Would you rather have me get you inside?" Tyki finally asked, cocking his head in direction of the house. "I bet it's pretty suffocating in there…"

Allen found himself giving the other this look of incomprehension before finally catching himself and schooling his features into a slightly more neutral expression, unwilling to betray the full extent of his own bafflement. "You think I'm not strong enough to get away on my own?" he finally asked, once again contemplating the wisdom of asking such things, seeing that he really ought to have waited for the other to depart and then – somehow – subtly attempted a getaway, seeing that drained and a bit disoriented or not, he was perfectly capable of being resourceful whenever he needed to be.

"As you may or may not have noticed, this is an island," Tyki responded, eyeing him with something akin to amusement. "Besides, even if you did manage to leave this particular area, you would just give yourself more trouble and the rest a whole lot more fun seeing that they would no doubt take great joy in hunting you down. Now, if you could walk on water on the other hand…"

_What about boats? What about random pieces of driftwood or even…?_

_You don't honestly expect me to swim, do you? I mean, I'm a decent swimmer and all, but now…._

_Now…_

He finally looked back up at the other and opened his mouth to speak. As he spoke, his voice little more than a whisper, Tyki Mikk's eyebrow rose slightly before lowering, accompanying his other one to form a slight frown which gradually morphed into a wry smile which seemed nervous but also carefully optimistic.

"Hoh… are you sure about this?"

He nodded once before his eyes sought out the shadows visible in the lit windows, feeling as though he was being watched. Almost immediately, he caught sight of the boy from before standing in the window, staring emptily towards them. "Yes," he said, finding himself unable to tear his eyes away from the sight. "Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

The other snorted openly at this. "The worst, obviously."

Internally, Allen disagreed, but he kept his face blank. "Even so, would you?"

He could feel Tyki's eyes on him, and finally tore his own eyes away from the soulless child standing at the window to look at his companion instead. "Would you do it?"

Tyki's teeth flashed white in the night. "Given the incentive, yes… but you do understand the risks it would entail for the both of us, yes?"

He did, but, however strange as it might have seemed, the prospects did not frighten him – at least not to the extent that his fear would overcome his ability to reason.

Closing his eyes briefly, he allowed himself to breathe deeply and calmly for a few times before finally coming to a decision. "You know what, Tyki?" he said, opening his eyes halfway all whilst the other acknowledged him with a slight hum. "Screw the last meal. Once all this is over with, we're going out for pizza."

"Hoh…" Tyki snickered, shifting his posture slightly. "Will it be my treat, as usual?"

"If you want," Allen responded, eyes narrowing slightly as the boy disappeared from the window and a door opened instead. "I was more into the idea of skipping the bill…"

Tyki let out a noncommittal hum, eyes no doubt focusing on the people that had just exited the house and were making their way over.

Allen himself on the other hand took a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily to collect himself. _If one can't reason with God, one has to go and play cards with the Devil…_

He took another deep breath. _And if the Devil doesn't play by the rules?_

He exhaled, already having reached his conclusion.

**- o0o -**

"_You are the Devil's child."_

**- o0o -**

He was still in the backseat of that very same car, but this time around he was not alone and the vehicle was moving along steadily, no doubt headed for the area that had for whatever reason been chosen for such a positively nefarious purpose.

**- o0o -**

_"You shouldn't have been in this world to begin with."_

**- o0o -**

He had never been of this world; a great deal of him had always belonged to the other side and those from that particular side had now arrived to claim him as one of their own.

**- o0o -**

"_You shouldn't have been born in the first place!"_

**- o0o -**

He shouldn't have been born, yet there he was.

**- o0o -**

"_Go back to whence you came, you demon!"_

**- o0o -**

He had never been a demon, but in the end it hadn't mattered one bit; his spiritual powers and sensitivity had efficiently spoiled his chances of living a reasonably normal life, and the negativity that largely surrounded him during certain periods of his life coupled with his own energies had become a powerful beacon, both attracting and deterring entities.

Normalcy – normalcy was greatly overrated. Few sought to be average. Some were average, seeking to be extraordinary. As for the extraordinary, they were divided, either seeking to remain above the masses or seeking to fit the norm.

He himself on the other hand – while certainly an extraordinary individual – had sought neither. He held no desire to stand above the masses; he wasn't above them, but certainly not below them either. He did not fit the norm, and neither did he have any desire to do so, if such a thing was even possible considering who he was and all the things he had been through.

Truly…

It was all quite laughable really.

**- o0o -**

It was all quite laughable really, in an almost morbid kind of manner. Then again, there was also the matter of cliché to take into account, seeing that they were all wearing some sort of robes and all and it was just tacky, especially considering the location which turned out to be the stone circle he could vaguely recall Neah having pointed out to him in a painting in what seemed to be such a long time ago. Then again, perhaps it just wouldn't do to perform demonic summoning rituals right in the middle of someone's backyard in perfectly normal attire without seeing the need to cover it up with other fabric as they had on this particular occasion. Really, if not for the quite serious situation at hand Allen would have found it hard to contain his laughter at such an image.

However, being in the aforementioned situation overlooking something very sinister that was about to take place, Allen was about as far from bursting out into laughter as he could possibly have been, all things considered, all whilst watching the young boy – just a kid, really – wearing this rather distant and disturbingly empty look on his face – a telling sign that the other's free will had been taken away from him, leaving him little more than a human doll that did few things beyond what he was commanded to by the puppet master – or was it mistress? – that was Road Camelot. Truly, it was positively sickening, to the extent that he almost found himself wishing that they would just get on with it and put the kid out of his misery already, seeing that the other had no doubt been brought along for a purpose which lay beyond that of casual entertainment, seeing that this kid was apparently special – and kind of like Allen himself actually from what he could perceive – and as such hardly worth the effort of being dragged along if not for the sake of being used as an offering of some sort.

Suddenly he felt some sort of shift in his surroundings and tore his eyes from the spectacle taking place in the darkness, and refocused his attention on the Earl who was – for whatever reason – holding onto what looked very much like and had a very high probability of actually being a ritualistic dagger along with a chalice of some sort. Lulubell, ever eager to please her one and only master, scurried forth to hold the chalice for him whilst the others – barring Allen and the kid – left the circle's midst and instead moved to stand before one of the large erected stones surrounding them all while the Earl adjusted the grip on the dagger. Only moments later the man had slashed one of his palms, allowing blood to spill forth – or at least that's what Allen assumed, seeing that he could not actually see this and could only watch as Lulubell held the chalice in position to catch the precious blood running from her master's palm. _"Adam Walker, the Millennium Earl, the First Apostle."_

Handing the dagger over to Tyki Mikk, the Earl instead took the chalice and raised it in direction of one of the stones that remained without anyone in front of it, as if saluting someone unseen. _"Toraido, the Judge of Noah, Second,"_ he said and was swiftly echoed by the others, even though Allen was positive he could see Tyki – now the one armed with the dagger – wince slightly before basically repeating what the Earl had done previously.

"_Joido, the Pleasure of Noah, Tyki Mikk, Third."_

The dagger shifted hands again, all whilst Lulubell followed along, carrying the chalice.

"_Dezaiasu, the Desire of Noah, Sheryl Camelot, Fourth."_

Another rounds of salutes to the unseen followed, honouring people entirely unknown to him.

"_Waizurii, the Wisdom of Noah, Fifth."_

"_Fiidora, the Corrosion of Noah, Sixth."_

"_Maashima, the Pity of Noah, Seventh."_

Then, the one who was Skin Bolic followed, performing the act without much enthusiasm, no doubt more than just a bit disgruntled at the fact that he had been forbidden from eating candy during the course of the ritual. _"Raasura, the Wrath of Noah, Skin Bolic, Eighth."_

Then, Road stepped forth. _"Road, the Dreams of Noah, Road Camelot, Ninth."_

"_Bondomu, the Bonds of Noah, Jasdero and Devitto, Tenth and Eleventh."_

Lulubell finally turned the chalice over to the Earl before accepting the dagger from Devitto. _"Rasutoru, the Lust of Noah, Lulu Bell, Twelfth."_

"_Maitora, the Ability of Noah, Thirteenth."_

Numerous pairs of eyes were resting upon him; he did not have to see them all to feel them, but even so – plagued by a strange feeling of inevitability – he stepped forth, was handed the dagger and performed the same ritual as the rest, cutting his palm whilst trying not to wince and letting blood fall into the chalice which was held forth. _"Allen Walker, Fourteenth,"_ he said, lifting his eyes to the scene as it gradually unfolded in front of him, with Lulubell having left her position to drag the still awfully blank-looking kid – Timothy Hearst up against the pillar-like stone standing in the circle's midst, securing him there with his hands bound behind his back even though it seemed a very strange thing to do seeing that the kid had been highly docile if anything. Knowing well what was expected of him, the dagger still held in his hand felt heavy indeed and he found himself pressed to make sure that his gradually increasing nausea remained under control, seeing that the air around him – the ground itself – seemed to become more and more polluted as the seconds ticked on.

The Earl – still holding the chalice – nodded to Lulubell who in turn presented the man with what looked suspiciously much like a bottle of red wine. Realizing this, Allen nearly lifted an eyebrow in response but kept his face blank as wine was poured into the chalice, no doubt intermingling with the blood which had already been assembled there all whilst the others stepped forth, still forming a circle around them before what could best be described as a parody of the Holy Communion took place, the chalice shifting hands in the same order as previously before it was once again in the hands of the Earl who held onto it all whilst watching Allen expectedly.

Taking the cue for what it was, Allen did his best not to swallow soundly and turned his eyes forward once more, refocusing on the boy who was still staring blankly at him. He adjusted his grip on the dagger's handle, closing his eyes once again, steeling himself whilst counting down mentally. _Truly…_

He opened his eyes. _Inevitable._

**- o0o -**

"_Darkness…"_

**- o0o -**

_"Darkness was upon the face of the deep..." _

**- o0o -**

"_And__ the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters…"_

**- o0o -**

He shifted weight slightly, adjusting his posture.

**- o0o -**

"_And God said…"_

**- o0o -**

"_Let there be light…"_

**- o0o -**

"_And God saw the light, and it was good… and God divided the light from the darkness…"_

**- o0o -**

He had never been a particularly religious person; if anything, his beliefs were built and discarded on the premise of practicality. Admittedly, seeing more or less counted as believing in his case, and since he had never actually seen the entity supposedly known as God, he also had little reason to believe in him as any specific kind of entity, seeing that he knew so many others whose existence had already been proven to him, and often very thoroughly at that.

Either way, he did not deal in absolutes, because in his opinion, good and evil all came down to a matter of personal perspective in the end and as such, he could side with no one but himself. Even so…

Even if there was no true gods or things truly worthy of being defined as miracles, it all came down to a single thing in the end, and that very thing was – directly as well as indirectly – to become his ultimate weapon.

He raised the dagger, readying himself.

**- o0o -**

_"You cannot touch me."_

**- o0o -**

_"You cannot hurt me."_

**- o0o -**

_"You have no power over me."_

**- o0o -**

_"You shall not touch me. Not now. Not ever. Not without my permission. You cannot touch me. Not now. Not ever. Not without my permission. You shall not harm me in any way. I will not let you harm me…"_

**- o0o -**

_"You shall not touch me. Not now. Not ever. Not without my permission. You cannot touch me. Not now. Not ever. Not without my permission. You shall not harm me in any way. I will not let you harm me…"_

**- o0o -**

_"You shall not touch me. Not now. Not ever. Not without my permission. You cannot touch me. Not now. Not ever. Not without my permission. You shall not harm me in any way. I will not let you harm me…"_

**- o0o -**

He released a breath he did not know he had been holding, adjusting his grip on the dagger. He could have sworn he heard a few sighs and mutters around, indicating that he was probably taking his sweet time to get things done, but Allen paid them no heed, allowing the voices fade away as he focused on Tyki's words to him instead, both cursing and relishing in their seeming ability to calm him.

**- o0o -**

_"Faith has the potential to be a powerful weapon, seeing that believing in something makes it stronger…"_

**- o0o -**

_"After all, without believers – without __worshipers__ – Gods cannot exist…"_

**- o0o -**

Retaining his silence, he addressed the presence he could vaguely pick up from somewhere outside the circle. "_This is enough, right?"_

The presence – the illuminated specter watching him from a seeming distance – did not move, but he could sense it more clearly now, nearly as clearly as he had seen it the first time he could recall having seen it, back at the orphanage, undergoing one of many exorcisms – authorized and unauthorized. Back then, he had practically begged at it to release him from it all and to take him away to wherever. It had held out its hand to him then, but due to outside influence, Allen had been unable to reach it before it had already faded, leaving him to his fate. Then again, he hadn't understood then; he hadn't understood how things worked then, and in a way, he still didn't. Even so, this time around, he was perfectly willing to gamble.

It had not interfered previously; not to the extent of Allen's own knowledge at any rate, but this time around, it felt as though it had actually come there to do more than just watch as the events unfolded, so he reached out to it with his senses as well as he could, seeking to convey his stand and immediate intentions. _"Am I a fool?"_ he asked it in his mind. _"Am I a fool for actually believing you'd help me?"_

The specter flickered momentarily, disappearing briefly before reappearing just outside of the stone circle.

Allen paid it no heed, once again fully focused on the more immediate situation at hand.

They were looking at him, impatient and expectant.

The dagger weighed heavily in his hand as he looked down at the child who looked blankly at him in return, if not completely soulless then at least deprived of their own will. It was sickening, truly.

"Say," he heard himself say, addressing both the Earl and the other members of the Noah family. "Isn't it just a tad boring to slice the throat of someone who's entirely unresisting? Doesn't fear play a part in all of this as well?"

It was a foolish thing and he knew it, to encourage such a thing. Then again, even if he did manage to scar Timothy Hearst for life by having his senses fully restored, the kid would still have a life after all of this if things went along with Allen's somewhat hastily thought-up plan.

The Earl – looking disturbingly pleased – nodded to Road who in turn sighed and pulled out a familiar doll. She began to walk up to him, and he in turn counted the seconds, both anticipating and dreading the moment he knew would eventually come. She offered the doll to him and he took it, turning towards the child as she returned to her post. They were getting impatient – he didn't need to look to know as much, but there was still time.

_If one can't reason with God, one has to go and play cards with the Devil…_

_And if the Devil doesn't play by the rules…_

He took another deep breath, steeling himself for what lay at hand.

_You cheat._

**- o0o -**


	15. Resolution

_This… took way longer than expected. I had intended to finish this earlier, but got stuck with studies, work and babysitting a six- and a twelve-year-old. The latter proved the most tedious.  
_

_Either way, I'm off to put the finishing touches on the next part of this._

_Cheers._

**- o0o -**

**Resolution**

**- o0o -**

As a plan, it was rudimentary at best, and all things considered, it was a sheer miracle that it went off while not without a hitch still well enough to count as a halfway success.

It had hardly seemed very realistic to either of them, though by no means impossible either; it had held a very small chance of success and had carried immense risks, but even so, it had been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that he had been unable to pass up and had as such persuaded Tyki to go along with, trying to convince both the latter and himself that the possible benefits of his plan outweighed the risks and would as such make them worth taking.

Admittedly, with all the plan was and all that it entailed, he was by no means proud of either having been the main brain to conceive it nor of having a part in its implementation, knowing it would probably come to haunt him – possibly even in ways unimaginable – even though he also knew that not doing it would probably bring even greater regrets.

Admittedly, he did not exactly love the world. In another context – that is, when he himself would not be in such a bloody mess up to his very neck – he would probably have taken some amount of pleasure in watching how his fellow human beings were tormented by forces they should not have trifled with in the first place.

Admittedly, he should not have felt any kind of responsibility for it all – for the world and for the humans in his immediate surroundings as well as otherwise – but he still did and with that in mind, there was really no way for him to just sit back and relax while the world burned and even less for him to be the one holding the knife to another's throat, much less that of a child. He and the kid had never met before this and as such, the kid's life should have mattered very little to him, but age did matter and it was just so… off.

Then again, perhaps it was all just an excuse on his part. Perhaps it was just him telling himself that he would not be able to kill a child simply because he saw himself within the aforementioned, even though he really held qualms about killing in the first place, not so much for the worry of his supposedly immortal soul but rather for the sake of his own mental health. After all, he had not exactly handled his last – albeit halfway accidental and halfway self-defensive – kill very well.

Neah – whoever he had really been – had wanted no part of it all, but still done – or at least made an attempt to do – just what he himself had deemed necessary in order to ensure the safety of not only his brother but also himself.

Admittedly, the latter had failed, but Neah had by no means been the first to have fallen prey to the Earl's seductive whispers promising solutions where there seemingly were none and Neah had by no means been the last. In a way, Allen supposed he too had at certain points in his life cursed his own powerlessness and been perfectly willing to take an offered hand, allowing himself to be led astray in order to obtain just that power he had been lacking. Neah had ultimately done so not primarily for his own sake; he had – from what Allen could tell, at any rate – seen the spider web and stumbled right into it, getting caught only for the sake of obtaining what he lacked. Once caught, Neah had fought rather than allowed himself to be subdued. Though he had lost out to the odds in the end, Neah had still done the best he could with the resources available; he had saved his brother, albeit at a price, and Allen could do little else than admire that kind of selfish but still selfless act, knowing well the implications it would have had on his own life if Neah had not done what he had done. After all, without Mana, Allen doubted he himself would have lived up until this point.

Then again, perhaps it was really that?

Saving people – well, _living_ people, anyway – had never quite been his forte, but that in itself did not mean that he found the concept of it despicable by any means. It was usually quite foolish, yes, but still quite admirable somehow.

Then again, without such foolishness, Allen knew he himself would not have been where he was, attempting to do what he did, because although he generally held most individuals as well as humanity in general in occasionally low regards, Allen knew and had always known that there were a few – a precious few – exceptions as with everything, and in the end, it was people like that – exceptional people in their own way, truly – who had either wittingly or unwittingly ensured that he could go on living.

The middle-aged man in the graveyard had heard him and had actually cared enough to take a closer look, and had – knowing next to nothing about him besides what he could observe – had actually made an earnest attempt to deal with him before both certified and self-proclaimed professionals swooped in to take his place.

Admittedly, the latter had not – at least not for the most part – hurt him in any way, but they had still been lacking in a very important aspect that the other had clearly possessed. Caring was a part of their job description and they cared because it was their job to do so; they cared in the way that professionals did, and pitied him the way that they as individuals did. In general, their concern for him and his continued well-being seemed to end once he had been passed onto the next institution or authority, becoming someone else's problem, whilst the man in the graveyard had actually made – well, at least _tried_ to make – inquiries into what eventually became of him, harboring what could possibly count as genuine concern, only for him to be brushed off and given romanticized images of Allen living happily somewhere else and him finally leaving it at that, hoping it would be true. That man had also been the one to provide Allen's old social worker Mina with the name of the person whose grave he had somehow ended up in; a highly unusual and somewhat questionable and puzzling request, no doubt.

The motherly matron of one of the orphanages he had been in had seen him for what he was, looking straight at him instead of averting her eyes. In life as well as in death, she had been drawn towards him, picking up on his need to have someone around who did not treat him like most others did, and staying around after her own passing to keep him company.

Then again, in hindsight, Allen supposed his own untrained spiritual powers might have actually trapped her there with him, making her unable to pass on before he himself allowed her to leave. After all, once Mana had entered his life – making her presence redundant – she had vanished altogether, never to appear before him again.

As for Mana, the man had admittedly had his faults, but his faults had all been outweighed by his other qualities, because though their relationship had admittedly ended in a way which was by no means ideal, Mana had still left a huge impression on him and managed to anchor him just a tiny bit more firmly in the world of the living, introducing the thought that Allen could possibly even be a part of it eventually, to some extent. This might just have been a case of wishful thinking on his part, but that in itself changed very little in his own way of viewing things; to him, Mana had still – somehow – saved him, from himself if nothing else.

Then again, Neah had been there too – a shadow of his old self, but there nonetheless – watching over him for reasons unknown.

Admittedly, Neah's supposed motives were at least fairly understandable, seeing that the guy really hadn't had all that much in common with the Earl's agenda.

The motives of Neah's other self on the other hand – of the demonic entity the aforementioned had merged with – was puzzling if anything. Normally, a bodiless and allegedly demonic entity ought to have jumped at the chance of possessing a body on a more permanent basis. Yet, it had seemingly refrained from doing so, even when Allen himself would have been in a state where he would have been able to offer up virtually no resistance whatsoever, following which it would have been child's play to break him from within.

Even now, his mental defenses were weakened just like the rest of his body, and he moved and plotted with energy he didn't really have at his disposal, draining unseen reserves. If anything, then now should have been the perfect opportunity to take him down, especially so while the surrounding barrier kept him relatively isolated from any potential outside interference.

After all, the other had allegedly claimed him, possessing him once if not twice and thus proving it could be done and that it could be done quite easily too. Thus, the reason he was still in control of himself and not possessed lay more in the other's unknown motives rather than in any lack of ability on the other's part. Then again…

The masked specter was still outside the barrier, either completely unseen or just unnoticed by the others. Perhaps it – whatever it was – just wasn't meant to be seen by anyone but him, because he saw it and found himself being watched by it in return, seemingly waiting for something to occur, much like the ever-present shadow. However, whilst the latter had actually sought to interact, the specter remained at a distance; watching and waiting – always – much like Neah's shadow now did. Truly – those two entities that were admittedly quite powerful on their own – what could they possibly be waiting-…?

The sound of a weak groan brought him out of his temporary reverie, and he somewhat absentmindedly took note of Timothy Hearst's sluggish and confused blinking down on the ground. Minutes earlier, Allen had severed the largely unseen tendrils of energies connecting the kid's psyche with Road's uncanny voodoo doll, the aforementioned doll now having been discreetly slipped into one of his pockets just in case he needed it later. He sincerely doubted it, but with his life being the way it was, one could never really know, right?

As brown eyes focused upon him, narrowing in confusion before widening in fear and shock, the previously compliant body began flailing. Resolutely – intent on keeping up the illusion for just a while longer – Allen grabbed him and slammed him down into the grass with just a bit more force than necessary and then proceeded to keep the kid's upper body pinned against the ground with one hand whilst he adjusted his grip on the dagger in his other, bending down to apply more pressure when the kid struggled, the latter gradually becoming more vocal and foul-mouthed about it as well.

"Don't," he whispered. His was voice low but by no means inaudible, meaning that he – for just a few more moments now – still needed to guard his tongue. "It'll be alright."

Surprisingly, the kid ceased his struggles almost immediately. Then, the kid turned his head slightly – as much movement as his position would allow – and leveled him with a distrustful and utterly disbelieving look, but thankfully kept silent. Allen smiled, but doubted it made a very reassuring image as he was still crouching there with the dagger in his hand, very much about to use it, though not as others had intended.

In a flash, he released his grip on the kid and instead put the blade of the dagger to his now liberated hand, slashing his palm. The fingers of his uninjured hand tightened their grip on the weapon and, raising it slightly, he stabbed the ground with a fair deal of force along with an only partially voiced prayer. He let go of the dagger nearly instantly, a burning sensation lingering in his palm as he registered the barrier rippling from the act.

Already, he could both visually register and sense people moving in to stop him, but he was already in motion. Moments later – presumably fueled by something akin to desperation alongside adrenalin – he had thrown the brat off in-between two of the erected stones and to the very edge of the barrier, where a vaguely amused-looking Tyki had taken a casual step aside not to stand in the way.

Once the kid had impacted on the ground and – due to the momentum – had rolled all the way out of the barrier, swearing under his breath and in some amount of pain judging from the sounds of it, Allen actually allowed himself a bleak but semi-triumphant split-second smile. As expected, it proved very short-lived however, as a heavy blow to the side of the head soon left him visually impaired and his ears ringing as he collapsed sideways into the grass, stunned by the blow but by no means unconscious.

"Allen, Allen, Allen…" came a wryly amused voice from above. "Foolish boy, did you honestly believe that we had not prepared for this eventuality?"

Remaining on the ground, Allen offered a pained hiss as his only response. His head was pounding; his brain still felt a bit rattled loose and if he wasn't imagining it, he now had a head wound of some severity, blood running into his hair and along the side of his face; a tad discouraging perhaps, but by no means a potentially lethal blow.

"Honestly," the Earl spoke once again, moving farther away and then closer again, likely having stepped to retrieve the ceremonial dagger Allen had driven into the ground to disrupt the barrier. "If this is all the cunning you have to offer, then I'm honestly-…"

Though he evidently still felt like shit – and like he had, for example, just endured something terrible and then received a heavy blow to the head for his efforts – Allen actually chuckled at this. He forced his eyes open just slightly even though there was hardly much of a point to it as all he saw was darkness along with a strange blend of colors and then, a bit further away, a distinct and somewhat familiar light which regarded him in return, as he suspected just about everyone else did now as he – seemingly doomed as he was – was actually chuckling in the face of it all.

"You're disappointed?" he finally croaked, remaining where he was on the ground, darkness creeping into his vision. "I'm the one who should be-…"

And then, oblivion.

**- o0o -**

A gentle rocking sensation coupled with the somewhat muffled sounds of waves brought his senses back to the surface.

Initially, the rocking notions proved strangely soothing, yet positively nauseating as well, and his head did still hurt a whole lot, but it hardly mattered.

Forcing his eyes to open just slightly, he hissed slightly as they stung immensely even though it was still dark all around him. It took some time for them to adjust and for his brain to process what he was discerning, amongst those the shape of Timothy Hearst, curled up on his side next to him, sleeping from the looks of it, which in itself proved a puzzling sight to say the very least. He hardly found the time to linger much on the thought though, as yet another wave crashed into the side of the inflatable boat they had somehow ended up in.

With some degree of effort on his part, he managed to partially heave himself up from the plain rubber floor and onto the inflated side, blinking sluggishly. _Where the Hell-…?_

The _where _part was hardly as important as the _how_ and _why_ part, but seeing that they were likely connected to each other, he started on what seemed the most obvious to him at the time, namely figuring out his current situation before diving into the circumstances that had led up to it.

Even though it was fairly dark, it did not take all that long for him to determine his approximate status to _drifting somewhere in the north-eastern part of the Atlantic_. Admittedly, it _was_ dark and he still had his doubts about the reliability of his perceptions, but the fact that he could not seem to spot any light sources closer than at the horizon that would serve as indicators of civilization obviously worried him. In addition, it left him wondering just how long they had been drifting about, as it was still dark out and it had been dark previously as well.

Then, though stunted due to his general condition, his sense of practicality kicked in and he turned his attention back to the boat, confirming what he had already inwardly suspected, namely that there were no oars. With the realization, he let out a sigh.

Had he been normal, he really ought to have been panicking in this kind of situation. Then again, he supposed, regardless of whether it truly existed or not, the whole concept of normalcy was greatly overrated in his opinion. However, though it was a sound realization on his part, it hardly helped him all that much in his current plight, because even if he could technically swim and was a decent swimmer at that if one was allowed to be modest, there was still those tiny matters relating to that he was wounded and that what he at least presumed to be the closest strip of land discernible in the night appeared to be quite a fair bit of distance away. Had he had a phone, then he could at least have tried to see if-…

He paused, momentarily caught by the sudden realization. It was a feeble hope at best, but he still rifled through his pockets, and soon triumphantly pulled out a phone which certainly wasn't his own but still very familiar to him.

For some reason, his hands – one of them expertly wrapped – proved a bit shaky when he fiddled with unlocking it, but he eventually succeeded. Admittedly, he was swiftly able to conclude that there wasn't any reception, having anticipated that such would indeed be the case. This in itself however did not mean that he did not have a use for the thing, as he instead opted to use the thing as a makeshift flashlight.

For whichever reason, he turned it nearly immediately towards the kid, wondering just how they had essentially ended up in the same boat – and Allen was very much aware of the pun, thank you very much – and how they had essentially ended up drifting right in the middle of nowhere.

The obvious explanation – the _how_ and the _why_ part – naturally involved some degree of interference from Tyki, but did not in itself explain the lack of the man's presence.

With that in mind, Allen drew a somewhat speculative conclusion in regards to just how things had ended up the way they seemingly had; Tyki had obviously done something which hadn't been a part of the plan, with unknown consequences. In turn, with that in mind, he turned his attention fully towards the piece of equipment in his hands, browsing through it to seek to uncover clues as to what had taken place during the time he had either been taken out or been operating on autopilot, and whether or not his missing hours were a direct result of injury, blood loss and spiritual exhaustion rather than of him being knocked out, because if the latter was indeed the case then he would never be hearing the end of it.

It did not take all that long for him to discover that there was a video recording from a few hours earlier saved upon it. He selected the file, wondering whether or not he should be dreading or anticipating whatever it displayed.

He viewed the footage, his face deadpan up until the point when his eyebrow began twitching. Then, having seen enough of what had taken place after a concussion of undetermined severity had been inflicted upon him, he stopped it and deleted it promptly before just staring at the illuminated screen in the darkness as it continued to mock him. He slowly released a breath he hadn't know he had been holding. Admittedly, it had not been the most favorable outcome, but-…

But…

He shifted slightly and moved the cell phone into his left hand, fixating his attention upon it. Suddenly, he was nearly overcome by this intense desire to fling the thing off into the night, longing to listen for the sound of it plunging into the depths. He presumed the desire was grounded in the vast amount of frustration he had been experiencing as of late.

"That bastard…" he snorted exasperatedly, leaning his back heavily against the side of the boat, tilting his still aching head back to look up into the starry skies above. "That son of a-…"

For whichever reason, he refrained from finishing the statement. Instead, he took a moment to stare at the neat bandages covering his right hand, studying it. It was way too neat to have been the work of Tyki, which in turn begged the question of just whose work it could possibly have been since the number of candidates available for such a task was – if anything – severely limited, and especially so judging from the video footage to which he had just been made privy. Just thinking about it made his headache worsen.

He brought his uninjured hand up to his head, wincing slightly as his fingertips initially came into contact with sloppily bandaged his head injury, carefully exploring the side of his skull whilst seeking to determine with a greater certainty that he had neither imagined it all nor been hurt all too badly.

Admittedly, he had heard from somewhere that head injuries usually bled a whole lot even when they weren't all that serious, but he figured that even if he had lost quite a bit of blood, the likelihood of him dying from blood loss alone was fairly slim.

Significant blood loss or not, it did not matter all that much though, since the bleeding had as far as he could tell already stopped, and though the wound was certainly tender and its infliction with all due likelihood connected to his slight concussion, he had already pretty much established that he had probably had worse in terms of physical injury at some point, though the combination of the aforementioned concussion, suspected blood loss and physical and spiritual exhaustion certainly did its part in contributing to his condition.

Aching head, rattled brains and slight disorientation aside though, he actually felt surprisingly well and all, considering the circumstances at any rate. He would live; or rather, he was unlikely to die from any of the aforementioned plights lest he managed to end up in the water and drowned or perhaps drifted long enough without fresh water supplies.

Then again, as for the latter, Allen honestly doubted such a fate would befall them; even with the way in which Fate tended to screw with him, that kind of scenario just seemed so… utterly unrealistic, which was really saying something as he tended to think of his own views of reality as pretty broad in general. Then again…

He put the phone away and pulled his knees closer to his chest, resting his hands on top of them, fingers interlinked. He closed his eyes then, trying to focus upon the matters at hand, namely at somehow getting back to land. His head still ached, but he knew that he would probably feel a whole lot better once he was back on land, preferably in some place where he could treat his wounds, and he supposed, to return Timothy Hearst to human civilization. As for the case of civilization and himself, he found himself rather keen on avoiding it altogether, or at least until the fallout of Tyki's – as well as his own – extravaganza had died down.

Then, the previously ever-present sound of waves grew fainter, and he opened his eyes, uncurling from his position and turning his head and upper body around, eyes leveling on the familiar specter where it stood upon the air itself, just above the water's surface, seemingly waiting for him to acknowledge it, which he did, however begrudgingly. "What now?" he asked. "Why are you still here?"

Briefly, it flickered out of existence only to reappear up in the air right before him. Even at such a close proximity, there were no distinguishable facial features, but the specter's mask did seem to express something akin to amusement, which was a peculiar thing indeed.

"Who are you anyway?" Allen found himself asking, his tone curious rather than condemning. "What are you? And what do you want with me? What are you expecting of me? What are you-…?"

_"Am I a fool?"_

The specter remained unmoving and silent, observing him.

_"Am I a fool for actually believing you'd help me?"_

He closed his eyes briefly.

**"**_**Wrong question."**_

_Wrong question? Then what is-…?_

He lifted his gaze abruptly. Then, he extended his hand towards it, his gaze tired but unwavering. "Will you-…?"

It barely even hesitated, ethereal fingertips brushing against his, causing a surge of energy to run right through him like a small electrical current. It gave him a bit of a shock initially before fading to a slight tingling sensation right before the specter just up and vanished, dissipating into a glowing mist which surrounded him with its lingering aura, radiating a strange kind of warmth rather than coldness. Overall, he felt strangely comforted by it, though he wasn't entirely sure as to why. However, he was spared from pondering the issue any further when something else insisted upon snatching his attention away.

"What was that?" the newly awakened Timothy Hearst asked, with obvious awe in his voice.

"That…" Allen turned his head and upper body slightly so that they could peer at each other in the darkness which was no longer so dark, as the other's presence – along with their light – still lingered, mainly around Allen himself. "Is a _very_ good question."

"No really," the kid insisted, not even a hint of fear to his voice. "What was _that_?"

A very, very, _very _good question indeed…

However, Allen found that he had no greater amount of time to ponder that matter either as he thought he heard something in the distance. Then, shrugging it off as a mere figment of his imagination, he slid back down into the bottom of the boat, curling up on his side and closing his eyes. He felt drained again; drained and cold, and found that he just wanted to sleep, even if it was in a potentially hazardous inflatable boat right in the middle of the bloody ocean.

"Hey… Allen?"

He felt Timothy shift, shuffling closer. Then, a surprisingly cold hand came into contact with his face and he frowned involuntarily, but did not force his eyes back open.

"Allen?" the kid persisted, nudging him slightly. By this point, Timothy's voice had gone up slightly in pitch, signifying a rising worry along with some type of urgency. Then, it dropped just as suddenly as the kid spoke up again; his voice was a mere whisper this time around, albeit a somewhat harsh one. "Don't die."

Such concern; he really ought to feel flattered that the other harbored such care for his continued existence. He really ought to appreciate it all, but…

"I won't die," Allen snorted, opening his eyes only just wide enough to level the other with a disdainful look before screwing them back shut. "But…"

The hand left his cheek, moving upwards. "But?"

He actually shuddered when the other's hand came into contact with his forehead, but he could already feel himself slipping again, something which was by no means lost on the other.

"You could have a concussion, so you should stay awake," Timothy advised him. "You might lapse into a coma if you don't."

"That's a myth," he retorted none-too-kindly, largely uncaring as to the fingertips poking at him, seemingly trying to make him stay awake.

Then, the brat possessed the serious gall of splashing sea water into his face; thankfully not into his eyes though, because that would possibly even have merited an attempt on his part to push the other overboard.

**- o0o -**


	16. An Epilogue, of Sorts

_The last part (it's about time), though this particular story might be revisited at some point in the future if there is an expressed interest in seeing it continuing.  
_

_Also, scenes that were cut from the main story will probably be popping up within the near future, since I obviously couldn't fit them all in._

_Cheers._

**- o0o -**

**An Epilogue, of Sorts**

**- o0o -**

Normalcy – normalcy was greatly overrated.

Few sought to be average. Some were average, seeking to be extraordinary. And as for the extraordinary, they were divided, either seeking to remain above the masses or seeking to fit the norm.

He himself on the other hand – while certainly extraordinary in his own right – had sought neither, holding no desire to stand above others or to try to fit into an established norm he did not fit and probably would never fit.

Truly…

He sighed, hoisting his backpack further up onto his shoulder before pressing a button, waiting for the bus to come to a stop. Getting up from his seat, he made his way to the doors and left through them, descending the few necessary steps. Soon, his feet impacted on the pavement and the doors moved to close behind him. Within the time it took to take three steps away from the bus stop, the bus had already moved on, disappearing down the lane and leaving him behind.

Again, Allen's steps came to a pause, and he lifted his gaze, his tired eyes leveling on the cityscape, mapping out the familiar surroundings as he continued walking, taking a shortcut through a nearby park before continuing down a street, heading left, straight and then right before he finally stood outside of the apartment complex which had been his home at one point – his only home as far as he himself was concerned, even though it seemed such a long time ago.

A bleak smile graced his features. _It hasn't changed. It's still the same._

In truth, there was really no reason for him to come back to his place; his ties to it had already been severed, several times over. His stuff was still back at Tyki's old apartment, boxed up and ready to be moved whenever and wherever within hours of him making a call and giving the word.

However, in order for him to do so, he needed a place to go; there was none, and that was – in essence – the problem, especially now that he had burned his bridges in setting fire to the Earl's mansion only a few hours prior, having made sure that it was prepped to burn for a very – _very_ – long time – if not to the ground. He had even set a timer before leaving the premises, heading to a public restroom to clean his hands and face, even going to the extent of rinsing his hair, ridding it of its temporary reddish color before once again hiding it beneath a black beanie.

Once that had over with, he had headed to a convenience store, securing provisions before heading back out, enlisting the help of surrounding energies and spirits to remain undetected as he made his way to an apartment building, entering it with ease after messing around a bit with the security system before making his way to the building's elevator. He had made his way to its rooftop armed with a pair of binoculars, watching the whole spectacle unfold from there, far away from the scene.

He had set fire to the Earl's mansion – the location of so many memories, both good and ill – and he had watched as fire-fighters arrived to quell them while others called for reinforcements. He hadn't been overly worried though, knowing well that there was little they could do; he had been very thorough in his preparations, ensuring that the fire would continue to burn until the aforementioned mansion and all that lay within it was nothing but a smoking ruin filled with ashes, courtesy of his own variety of Greek fire.

Luckily, the fire-fighters had eventually realized not only the scale but also the nature of Allen's preparations and had wisely withdrawn, fighting the fire at a safe distance from which they could only wait for it to finish burning, making sure the fire did not spread to surrounding trees and from there on to the neighborhood, even though the risk of it spreading that far had been a minor one, considering the ridiculous size of the mansion grounds.

The fire in the mansion was still ongoing, even though the local authorities claimed to have it under control. To Allen, it did seem to be under control, even though it still left a fair deal of their part of London shrouded in smoke of varying density – thicker in some places and thinner in some, dependent on the direction of the wind, which wasn't much to speak of as a factor seeing that there was hardly any – along with a thick smell of it which stuck to clothes and skin of those who ventured outside, despite recommendations to stay indoors received from authorities.

As such – with most still going about just the same as they normally did – public transportation was still working as it should, even though the passengers were somewhat fewer compared to during a regular day and especially so during the early morning hours that Allen had stepped onto one, riding to a familiar stop before stepping off it. His casual appearance – wearing a beanie, dressed in a hooded long-sleeved sweater, a pair of worn jeans and a pair of sneakers, and tugging along a backpack – by no means set him apart from other people largely unconcerned with fashion trends. The only thing that may have stood out a tad was his gloves, and the latter could easily pass as something which had been added for the sake of function. Raging fire off in the distance aside, it was still a bit chilly outside, and thus, gloves could very well be excused. Then again, the latter was a minor issue, seeing that his strange hair color aside – which could also technically speaking be interpreted as either albinism or as a fashion statement – the tired Londoners laying their eyes on him briefly hardly saw anything other than what they would expect to see, namely a teenager – possibly a deviant with a questionable taste with strangely-colored hair and an either tattooed or scarred face – headed back from some nightly adventure completely unrelated to the great fire.

With any luck – helped by all the measures Allen had put into place beforehand – the Earl's mansion would continue burning until it was but a blackened ruin. The building – and to some extent part of the grounds as well, steeped in darkness as they were – needed to burn in order to be purified, as was the less known practice and by all means the easiest route when dealing with extreme cases of haunting and demonic infestations.

Absentmindedly – while making his way up the stairs to his apartment – he wondered whether or not he should perform some sort of ritual in Tyki's apartment as well, but he shrugged it off, reasoning that the latter hadn't messed around with the spirit world – carelessly opening portals and whatnot – but had rather done the complete opposite; keeping it at bay, caring little for it as long as he was able to enjoy the benefits of it.

He made it to the top of the stairs, reaching his intended floor and soon enough, he entered Tyki's old apartment, surveying the boxes stacked up against one of the walls with a perceived sense of forlornness as he dropped his backpack to the floor and pulled the door back shut behind him, locking it by habit before moving along to inspect the boxes where they lay accompanied by a roll of tape, waiting to be sealed up and carried off to God knows where.

He looked at them in silence, frowning mildly. "I ought to burn these," he mumbled out loud, already reliving part of his life from having laid eyes on the contents of the aforementioned boxes.

"_You are the Devil's child…"_

Momentarily, he was back in a familiar playground, surrounded from all sides by children armed with rocks.

_"You shouldn't have been in this world to begin with."_

_Sticks and stones_, he mentally recited. _Sticks and stones may break my bones… but…_

"_Go back to where you came from!"_

"Where is that?" he murmured, wrapping his arms around himself in an attempt to shake the feeling off.

Back then, he had lashed out, angered at his own treatment at their hands and in their midst. First, there had been sadness, followed by anger, followed by more sadness, followed by nothing.

_Sticks and stones_ _may break my bones… but…_

Nowadays, he was neither saddened nor angered by them, just wistful. His life had been characterized by such things – sad things; horrible things; frustrating things – and he needed no more of them. He had already had his share; he needed no more of them.

_Words may never hurt me…_

He had made it through – not unscathed, but definitely alive and kicking and with fresh blood on his hands. He had made it through, getting himself cut up and cursed in the process, occasionally even several times over.

If _they_ had been given the opportunity to curse him, they most likely would have; he had no doubts about that, and hadn't given them the chance to do so, even though he could not escape the notion that they would eventually come back to haunt him in one shape or the other. As such, he knew better than to remain where he was, especially now that he had the means as well as the opportunities to do so.

_Ever again… _

_Never again…_

He was no longer bound by the past – by either of them for that matter. Neah's room – which became his cell – no longer stood empty. Then again, he could only speculate on whether it still stood at all of if it – along with a lesser or greater portion of the house – had already succumbed fully to the flames and crumbled.

His mission had – at least for the moment – ended, leaving the vast majority of demonic entities of the Noah clan purged from the world of the living – to the extent of his knowledge at any rate. With that in mind, he should have felt relieved.

Instead, he felt increasingly restless and found himself more than eager to leave everything and everyone behind and to start off somewhere entirely new and unfamiliar, preferably somewhere far – far, _far_ – away from any cults, sects or congregations that could possibly turn up to pester him.

Then again, if people did not turn up, spirits no doubt would, lured in by his presence and flocking to him even now that his body, mind and soul had been irreversibly stained in darkness. Some – this mainly appealed to human spirits – stayed clear of him because of that, while the pull on others increased, like stars to a black hole, waiting to be swallowed up by it. He sent them on their way before that though, seeing to the fact that he already had at least one shadow too many stalking him.

Now, once again devoid of a proper anchor to keep him after all that had taken place, he had taken to drifting for a while before he once again ended up back in London, pulled there by unseen and unremarkable attachments he seared off by means of fire and business, seeing that he had already cancelled his own apartment and would leave it within the week, a week during which he still needed to figure out where to head next. But where?

Reaching into one of his pockets, he pulled out his – formerly Tyki's – phone, contemplating his options.

As for the fate of the latter, Tyki was – if one allowed for such a comparison – somewhat like a cockroach; with or without an attempt at extermination, the guy would come bouncing back in virtually no time at all, with or without an inner demon in a tow now that the rest of those having taken part in the whole affair had been temporarily relieved of theirs, mostly courtesy of the Holy Water Tyki had mixed into the goblet as it had gone around, wisely refraining from taking a sip out of it himself.

Admittedly, as had been proven through their evidently reckless experiment, it had taken a while for it to have any greater effect, likely because the Holy Water had been diluted to such an extent. Then again, as everyone's attention had been firmly directed towards him, the situation had effectively blindsided the lot to Tyki's betrayal until the tables had already started turning.

Then again, there was his own partial blackout and subsequent memory loss to deal with as well. This hardly worried him all that much though, as people could do extraordinary things if the situation called for it, and the situation had most definitely called for extraordinary measures.

After all, the recording proved that he – a tad concussed or not – had risen to the occasion and performed his part before going down for the count for real. However, the fact that he could still – several days later – only recall a mere fraction of the events that had taken place. This was evidently a cause of concern to him, albeit a slighter one as he had far more pressing matters than those events to worry about at the moment, which in turn led him to his latest predicament, namely _where_ to head next and _how_.

As for the temporal aspect of the matter – the _when_ – he already had his answer; he needed out, preferably imminently, before the world and its never-ending stream of troubles caught up with him yet again.

He looked at the phone – once Tyki's, now his – and reread the number displayed there, at some point having been added to its phonebook.

To be completely honest, it was a number he would rather not call if he could avoid it. Then again, if he wished to leave and not be forced to haggle with paperwork and authorities, he had little choice in the matter. Then again…

With a sigh, he leant his back against the wall and slid down to the floor into a seated position with the phone still in his hands. _"I need a way out," _he finally texted, pressing send. He had barely even put his phone away before it buzzed, and he read the message immediately.

"_Where are you?"_ it read.

"_London,"_ he texted.

"_Address?"_

He paused momentarily before giving the address, and as no immediate response followed, he was once again about to put his phone away when it suddenly buzzed anew.

"_Pack light,"_ it read. _"Two hours."_

"Two hours," Allen repeated to himself, breathing a sigh of both relief and of fatigue. "Two hours."

He already carried most of his life – the important bits of it anyway – around in his backpack, so what more could he possibly add to it if he also brought a satchel with his laptop along?

"Two hours," he finished, rising to his feet to set about with his final preparations. "Two-…"

He snapped his head up, eyes widening briefly and then narrowing. Then, without much further ado, he headed for the door, leaning his head against it without unlocking it, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath, willing himself to remain calm.

"I was just wondering when you were going to turn up, _Cross._"

**- o0o -**

Several minutes later found him alone in the apartment, having slid down the wall next to the door into a seated position, staring at a thick envelope clutched in his hands; both at the eerily familiar handwriting and at the name it spelled out, which was all too familiar to him. The envelope was still sealed; he had yet to open it.

If not for the presence of the aforementioned envelope, he would no doubt have taken the opportunity to dismiss Cross' appearance as a product of his sleep-deprived mind. In a way, he actually wished it had been just that, as he found himself seated on the floor, partially relieved and partially disappointed as to how brief and seemingly painless such a dreaded meeting had proven, especially so when he had spent so much time and gone to such ridiculous lengths to postpone it.

It was almost as if he had come face to face with the bogeyman, only to realize he had spent all this time being scared of his own shadow. Quite ridiculous actually, now that he actually considered it. Then again, after all that he had come to face as of late, just about anything seemed a lot less precarious than earlier – in comparison to other events at any rate.

With a sigh, he tucked the still-sealed envelope away into his bag. Though he technically had all the time in the world to open and see just what lay within it, he didn't; he already had a whole lot to process, and thus needed nothing more to add to his plate. Still…

He found himself glancing at it at it, his attention drawn to the item for reasons unknown.

"I… am an idiot," he finally concluded, giving in to his own curiosity and snatching the sealed envelope back, turning it over in his hands and holding it up before his eyes, considering it.

Then, already knowing he would come to regret it, he gradually tore it open, mindful of its contents. He still peeked at them though, catching a glimpse of something. Despite knowing better, he reached into the envelope and gradually pulled it out, the photograph gradually revealing itself. He stared at it, seconds ticking by as he gradually took it in, trying to make sense of it.

Then, instinctively, he flipped it over and found himself staring at the back of it, and at the message there, eyes widening slightly in sheer disbelief as the envelope and its contents slipped from his hand and onto the floor, scattering. He barely took any note of it though, his attention nearly completely stolen away by the photograph he found himself clutching in his other hand, which was actually trembling slightly; and as he gradually came to realize, so was he.

He closed his eyes, screwing them tightly shut whilst telling himself someone had to be screwing with him again. Then, he reopened them, staring blankly at the opposite wall up until the sound of his phone buzzing right next to him finally attracted his attention.

Blearily, he reached for it, taking the incoming call.

"_Allen?"_

He blinked sluggishly in response.

"_I've been calling you repeatedly for fifteen minutes now, but haven't been able to get through. What's going on?"_

Still pressing the phone to his ear, he struggled to get up and failed, sliding back down into a seated position, feeling like he was going to be sick.

"_Allen?"_

He pressed his other hand to his forehead, wincing. "I'm here. Sorry."

"_Are you alright?"_ The concern in the other's voice was evident and undeniable.

"I think so." Allen sat up a bit straighter. "I just got a bit dizzy all of a sudden."

There was a muffled curse from the other end. _"Give me your apartment number. I'll come fetch you myself."_

"There's no need," Allen protested, reassembling and returning the scattered contents of the envelope to their proper place before sliding the thing back into his bag and shakily getting to his feet. "I'll be right out."

**- o0o -**

Too much time had passed.

Too many things had changed.

He could never go back.

There would always be shadows, and with him being the way he was, they would always be drawn to him, like moths to a miniature moon; to a streetlight.

Still, since he had chosen to live, it was a fate he had to accept as his own.

The paranormal was a part of him. He could never escape it, and neither did he want to, seeing that he had always felt closer to that world than that of the living; then again, he was just as a big a part of both.

There would always be voices around him, apparitions.

Objects would always move, disappear and reappear in his immediate vicinity.

There would always be knockings – even outright banging – on walls and doors when he passed by.

Animals would be spooked and temperatures would drop and rise suddenly.

There would always be growls in the darkness, occasional scratches, strange smells, gusts of wind, flickering lights, outright fires and impenetrable shadows in his wake, and they would all watch him.

He would always be watched, and occasionally even touched. Even more so than before, spirits – particularly those of a powerful and much darker nature – would be curious; they would flock to him, drawn in by his natural light as well as by his corrupted body and mind.

They would seek to possess him no doubt, perceiving his sensitivity as a potential weak point, and they would be cast out and eradicated all the same for seeking to attain something that wasn't theirs.

Even so, there would always be bouts of irrational behavior, and he would always have occasional blackouts, seeing to the fact that even though the Fourteenth – whoever he was – had supposedly left his body once more, the other had still left a deep impression on him – on all of him, ensuring that he could never go back to whoever he was before the other's darkness had first touched him. Then again, there was little for him to go back to even if he could.

Too much time had passed.

Too many things had changed.

He could never go back, and neither would he.

**- o0o -**

"_That's it…"_

**- o0o -**

"_That's it..."_

**- o0o -**

"_Keep going… Keep walking…"_

**- o0o -**

"_Keep walking…"_

**- o0o -**

"_I'll manage." _– He would.

"_I know what I'm doing." _– He didn't.

"_It will be alright."_ – He wondered.

**- o0o -**

_"Where are we going?"_

**- o0o -**

His most recent confidant – the surprisingly capable busybody otherwise known as Bak Chan – brought the car to a stop in front of a traffic light. The other's eyes remained on the road, but the way in which the man's attention shifted was very noticeable, even though a hooded Allen – who sat in the backseat of the car at the opposite side of itnlooking out the window, staring at nothing in particular – refused to openly acknowledge it. "You look like you've had a rough night," Bak finally noted, putting his foot back onto the gas pedal when the lights switched back to green. "Or a couple."

Allen – recalling having held a similar conversation before, multiple times even – finally tore his eyes from the cityscape passing by outside the window, giving the other a brief look before screwing his eyes shut, leaning his forehead against the glass. "Is that how you start off every conversation?" he asked, keeping his voice perfectly level to the extent that he almost sounded bored.

"Occasionally," Bak Chan responded, not bothered in the slightest from the looks of it as he continued driving. "So, rough night, huh?" he went on, giving him a brief look. "I heard you've been busy… since you signed yourself out of the hospital and left without saying goodbye and all..."

Allen said nothing, opening his eyes slowly before continuing to observe their surroundings in favor of ignoring the man in the driver's seat. "What about it?"

Eyes rested on him momentarily before once again turning to the road. "You did a quite thorough job from what I hear… though you probably went a bit overboard with all that Greek fire."

Allen snorted in response. "I'd rather be safer than sorry."

"So I see." Bak shot him another look. "You did a good job in covering your tracks as well."

"Define good," he mumbled right back, more to himself.

"Good enough," Bak responded. "And considering everything, I doubt anyone will start looking into the matter, and in case they do, your cover story is pretty solid. As far as legal authorities are concerned, you were first blackmailed, then drugged and finally held against your will, and any offences you may have committed since then are so minor that they could probably all be explained away in court if needed be, seeing that as far as they are concerned – or for that matter _aware_ – you were only a witness to the events and took little or no active part in them… and with that friend of yours missing, young Timothy backing you up and no one else to debunk it, I doubt anyone's about to contest your claim of having taken no active part in it."

"Even if I did." – More than a little even, seeing to the fact that he was at the very centre of it. – "Technically."

"You did what you had to do," Bak responded.

"I suppose."

For almost a minute, tense silence reigned. It was tense, but by no means suffocating. Allen hardly felt the need to speak; what needed to be said had already-…

"So," Bak finally said, taking the initiative to break it. "Where are we headed?"

A bleak smile graced the white-haired teenager's face. "Places."

Bak lifted an eyebrow in response, shifting gears. "Places?" he repeated somewhat skeptically. "Did you have anywhere in particular in mind or…?"

"Away from here would be nice." Allen rested his head against the window, closing his eyes anew.

"How about America?"

The prompt question caught him slightly off guard, and he found himself leveling the other with a tired look with a hint of wryness to it. "As the latest recruit to this… study group of yours?"

"If you want," Bak responded, giving him a short look through the rear-view mirror. "I mean, I could use a new demonologist and all, but-…"

The man paused briefly, weighing his words very carefully from the looks of it.

"But?" Allen responded somewhat wryly, humoring him.

"I do think…" – The other glanced at him again through the rear-view mirror. – "That you could use another vacation, don't you?"

Allen smiled, hand sneaking into his pocket to pull out his phone. He spared a brief glance at the display before once again putting it away. "You know what?" he finally responded. "I really could."

**- o0o -**


End file.
